


your love (is a turning page)

by AmeliaAsherWrites, ohhitherekate



Series: Delilah Mason/Odette [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: Based off a OUAT RP, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaAsherWrites/pseuds/AmeliaAsherWrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhitherekate/pseuds/ohhitherekate
Summary: Jefferson wakes up with a year of his life missing after Pan's curse. The town is oblivious and he is alone yet again. When he meets the towns patisserie chef and part time ballet teacher; Delilah Mason -- he feels a connection to the woman. Not to mention the ring she wears on her index finger -- a ring he stole decades earlier. How does she have his ring? Who is this woman and why has no one in town noticed that they've been cursed yet again?(STORY BASED OFF A TUMBLR RP)
Relationships: Mad Hatter | Jefferson/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Delilah Mason/Odette [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172522
Comments: 29
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

On the morning of the second curse, Jefferson woke feeling like he’d been sleeping on a cloud. A very clean and crisp cloud, if that were possible. He eyed his plush mattress covered generously with the Vera Wang sheets and comforter. It was the same damn bed he’d had for the past twenty eight years and never felt it was anything too remarkable. Why now did he feel like it was the first time in a long time he’d slept there. Weird. He didn’t recall actually going to bed the night before either.

He dismissed the bothersome thoughts of being displaced as unimportant. The light snow falling outside caught his eye and Jefferson paused, staring out the window. Wasn’t it late-May? A late snow then? Not too odd for Maine, after all.

Turning from the window, his thoughts busy on what to make Grace for breakfast, he left the room barefoot. Rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye, his hand reached for Grace’s doorknob. A memory struck then and he froze. 

_Pan’s curse. And then Regina’s counter curse. Purple smoke enveloping the entire town as they all stood in the street, completely helpless as Emma, the ‘savior’ drove away in her yellow Bug. Grace’s face turned toward Jefferson’s chest as he hugged her tight as if he could possibly protect her._

Shouldn’t they have woken in the Enchanted Forest. Jefferson looked around himself. Yes, he was home in the mansion. Odd. But that was a hell of a relief, wasn’t it?

Gripping the doorknob, he turned it to find the room dark, but enough light filtered in through the gap in the heavy curtain. What he saw wasn’t correct. He rubbed the other eye. Surely his eyes hadn’t adjusted from sleep yet. “Grace?” His voice echoed in the empty room. 

Blinking a few times did nothing to dispel the disbelief. Surely, another blink or three would produce the visage he expected. Grace, in her room. But he didn’t actually recall putting her to bed the previous night. Hell, he couldn’t remember the night at all--just the curse approaching. “GRACE!” he shouted, turning and sprinting down the hall to the next room. 

_Bang!_ The door slammed against the wall. Empty. The next room was the studio. The chilling atmosphere of cool lighting shone on shelves of tophats, but his eyes glazed over them. Grace wasn’t in there either. Where was her bed? Her furniture? Her stuffed bunny! 

_Gone. Again._ Regina had cursed the town again! Of course, they’d all fallen for her gesture to save them all. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head, closing his eyes as he stepped backwards until his heels hit the wainscotting. Slowly, he slid down to the floor. 

But the sound of a light tinkling against the window reminded him of the icy snow falling. 

His eyes snapped open and he jumped up to look out the window. The trees were bare of any leaves. That was unusual. They should all have the beginning buds of leaves growing in the Spring even if a late snow occurred. What the hell was going on? It was as if he’d lost a huge gap in time! 

Concluding that Regina’s curse had not only wiped out his memory of the entire summer and potentially the fall, he also didn’t know where Grace was. Their home showed no evidence that his daughter had been back for the past few months. Shouldn’t he _remember?_ He always knew. Always remembered. That was his curse. No. His curse was losing Grace, because he was certain that somehow it had happened again. 

The streets in town were busy with cars and people. It must be a weekend, he concluded. Kids weren’t in school, many adults weren’t working. The people were preparing for something. Maybe Miner’s Day was approaching. Was it actually that late in the year already? How many months had he lost? Not just he, but everyone. 

The chill in the air blew a swirl of dried leaves and snowflakes across the street just as Jefferson was beginning to cross. The cold shooting down his coat belatedly reminded him that he’d also forgotten to put a scarf on before leaving. Too distracted by the realization that the world was crashing down around him yet again, he’d been too much in a hurry to get into town. He lifted the collar of the coat he wore to shield his neck, hunched his shoulders and jogged across the street. 

Many school-aged kids were milling in and out of the patisserie and down the street, the same was happening at Any Given Sundae. A streak of nerves shot through Jefferson as he began to approach the door to the pastry shop and he froze on the sidewalk. Doubts filled him. If it was another curse, what if Grace had forgotten him again? _No..._

“Watch out!” Someone shouted directly behind him. A skateboarder shot past with a glare at him. 

“Idiot,” Jefferson mumbled, but his nervous stupor had been broken. He turned to look at the shop again. Grace wasn’t there, but a number of girls her age did file out, each with a wax paper sleeve holding their treats as they happily chatted. 

“I want to sign up for dance!” One of the girls gushed to her friend. Several agreements were spoken and Jefferson followed their line of sight to the dance studio nearby. Funny, he’d never noticed that business, but why should he? Grace had never brought up dance before.

“Ballet!” Another girl said dreamily. “Can you imagine being able to dance like that?” She lifted her arms, wax paper and pastry in tow, and made a pirouette very ungracefully. Powdered sugar from the sleeve drifted down onto the girl’s brown hair much like the snow that had fallen earlier.

A riotous uproar of laughter from her companions ensued. Jefferson turned his attention toward the ice cream shop. Maybe Grace was there. Walking in that direction, a fluttering on the next building’s window caught his attention and he stopped again. It was the dance studio as evidenced by the number of leotard-wearing toddlers inside mimicking roly-polies. 

Stepping up to the glass, Jefferson stuck out a finger to tame the flapping notice and read:

_Scholarships for extracurricular activities need funding! Support a child for a brighter tomorrow!_

Jefferson snorted. “As if anyone in this town can expect a brighter tomorrow,” he grumbled, but kept reading.

_Give your child ballet lessons this holiday season!_

His eyebrows rose as he looked up in thought. Grace had mentioned how she wanted to stay here in Storybrooke. To live a life like a normal family--or as normal as a family of two could be under the circumstances. Normal parents send their children to learn ballet and play sports. Was Grace into those things like the girls outside the pastry shop? 

One way to find out. He ripped the little tag bearing the phone number of the dance studio and shoved it into his coat pocket and continued his search for Grace.

Hours later, defeated, Jefferson slumped down on a park bench. No one was remarking on the Dark Curse, people were still wary of Regina as Madam Mayor--Jefferson rolled his eyes--and once he had finally spotted Grace and raised a hand to wave in her direction, her eyes had passed right by him and to the people that had been raising her for the past twenty eight years. Minus the months of bliss when he’d had her back, of course. 

He rolled his head on his neck feeling the stiffness of stress that had begun creeping over him. The wind was picking up. It was going to be a cold damn evening. But his fingers brushed along a scrap of paper in his pocket. The dance lessons! 

Fishing out his cell phone, Jefferson wasted no time and punched the number into his phone. He’d just have to make sure his little girl had a guardian angel looking out for her! She would have an anonymous gift made in her name. That at the very least could push the chill away for a short while. 

The phone rang in his ear as he waited.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**ONE MONTH LATER**

  
  
  


The smell of fresh pastries wafted up from the oven causing the pastry chef to smile. Less than a minute and they’d be done, baked to perfection. Delilah stirred the chocolate glaze that she’d drizzle over the pastries, choosing something extra sweet for the girls today. Working part time at the patisserie had its benefits, the dance teacher always having access to the kitchen, even on her days off. On the days she worked at the ballet studio, Delilah would wake up before the sun rose over Storybrooke and head to the patisserie, baking up something new for her students to have. Today she was bringing the kids pain au chocolat — or, her own version of the French treat. 

Delilah looked out the back window of the kitchen, seeing specks of snow falling from the sky. The sun was hidden behind the clouds today and Delilah felt grateful for the overcast. She twisted the ring on her index finger while waiting for the buzzer to go off, eyes still lingering to the sky. Something about the daylight always made her feel anxious, the woman preferring the dark. It was part of the reason she chose a job as a pastry chef, starting her morning at 3 AM, long before the sun crept out. It was an odd thing to get anxious over, yet Delilah still dreaded the feeling of the sun on her skin during the day. 

The timer buzzed, pulling Delilah out of her thoughts. She quickly pulled the pastries out of the oven, letting them cool off for a few minutes on a rack before she drizzled the chocolate glaze over them. She had made two dozen, enough for her class and the parents who lingered after dropping their child off — most of them staying in hopes that Delilah made enough treats for them as well. 

Soon enough she was heading over to the dance studio, a picnic basket full of her delicious creations causing the people who passed by her on the street to inhale deeply, the scent heavenly. 

Unlocking the doors to the studio, Delilah stepped inside the small building. She set the basket down on the table and shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. She switched on the lights of the room and watched as the studio lit up. Her students would be here any minute, the clock on the wall telling her she only had a few minutes to set up.

She’d be teaching them one of the most iconic dances from The Nutcracker: Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. A classic piece that her students had been begging Delilah to teach them.

She set up the stereo, just as the bell above the door rang, alerting her that one of her students had arrived. She smiled when she saw it was Paige Grace, the young girl always early for her lessons. She was the only sponsored kid in Delilah’s class, a generous donor paying for her to take dance lessons. It was generous, and though the donor remained anonymous, Delilah wished they could see just how happy these dance lessons made Paige. She lit up the room while dancing, Delilah’s star pupil. She was a quick learner, the feet of a true ballerina, always so graceful while she danced. 

“Hi Miss Delilah!” Paige greeted her happily as she walked into the building. 

“Good morning, Paige.” She smiled and then motioned to the table. “Help yourself,” Paige grinned and hurried to the basket full of treats. 

As the minutes ticked by, more and more students filtered in the door, a few of their parents staying long enough to grab a pastry but leaving as soon as Delilah began the class’s warm ups. While helping the girls stretch, Delilah felt the sun peaking out of the clouds, the warmth hitting her exposed shoulder. She frowned as she looked out that window and up at the now sunny sky, feeling her nerves erupt. Before panic could take over, something caught her eye. Or, someone. A man watching from the sidewalk. This wasn’t the first time she had seen him outside the studio either. 

A month had passed and on this day, just like every weekday before, Jefferson paused on the sidewalk to peer into the dance studio window. The ballerinas in training moved in sync with the motions of their teacher. One specifically caught his notice. His daughter was living up to her name. She was the most graceful on the dance floor, of course, in his eyes. A smile threatened to tip his lips upward as he watched, his coffee in hand long forgotten. 

While Jefferson had kept his eyes on Grace during the lessons, he hadn’t really paid much attention to the others. Why should he? None other was his kid. Nor had he really noticed the instructor except to note that Grace was mimicking the teacher’s motions perfectly. 

The sun peeked out from the cloud cover and reflected onto the studio window causing the glare to be so much that Jefferson could only see his own reflection. Squinting, he raised his arm to shield his eyes as he turned and half glared up at the sky. There were more clouds slowly ambling across the sky so he would wait. But when he looked back down, sun spots filled his vision. He wouldn’t notice that the instructor inside had noticed him standing there.

While he waited for the spots to go away, he took a sip of his coffee. A light breeze blew the scent coming from the patisserie his way. Perhaps the coffee might pair well with something from there. After the lesson. No, the shop would be full of kids by then and potentially Grace. He couldn’t bear to see her look right through him again. Best to go now. Troubled, he took one more look toward the glass hoping to see a smile on Grace’s face. At the very least, he’d had the means to help her do something she would enjoy.

Delilah was used to the townspeople passing by the studio, smiling happily as they watched the girls dance. It brought joy to a lot of people to see the kids enjoying themselves, to watch them gleefully dance along with Delilah, whether it was a choreographed number or freestyle at the end of the lesson where the girls were able to let loose and go crazy while Delilah blasted music for them. She was used to people watching. However, she had seen this man a couple of times now looking into the studio windows. Watching. Not the whole class dancing, but one student in particular — Paige. 

Eyes narrowing on the man, Delilah found herself moving in his direction. She paused, not knowing what she was going to do. Confront him? Ask him why he was staring? Call him a peeping Tom? She had no idea who this man was, _why_ he watched from afar, and why it was always Paige that his eyes lingered on. 

She watched as he stepped away, her instincts told her to let him leave, but something deep inside Delilah’s gut told her to go after him and demand answers. 

“I’ll be right back,” She told the class as she grabbed her coat. “When I come back we’ll begin with the first few steps,” Delilah said from over her shoulder after slipping on the winter coat. The man was heading towards the patisserie once Delilah made it outside, she shivered from the cold, still dressed in her ballet slippers. “Excuse me!” She called out, hurrying after the man before he could disappear.

Jefferson heard the voice call out, but seriously, who would be calling him on the street? He was going to ignore it on the assumption that the seeker was intended for someone else, but he looked in the reflection of the patisserie’s window and saw that he was being approached by someone approaching quickly behind him. 

Startled, Jefferson turned too quickly, clutching his coffee close to himself as if to protect it when it spilled all down his front. 

He made a noise of shock as the liquid soaked into the scarf and inside his coat. Looking up with a ‘ _what the hell?!’_ expression on his face, he saw the woman who had chased after him, first noticing the shoes. _Oh._ “Yes?” he asked as his eyes continued upward to notice a pretty face accompanying the odd ensemble of ballet slippers and winter coat. If he hadn’t noticed the ballet slippers, he wouldn’t have recognized her as the instructor whose class he had just been watching. Foolish, he knew. Having better situational awareness was usually his forte, but he had been very distracted with yet another curse dumped on him.

He pulled the front of his coat open to shake out the liquid with his free hand.

Delilah watched as the coffee from the man’s cup spilled on his jacket, wincing slightly at the fact that she had startled him. She shook it off, because she was a woman on a mission. She would not let her kindness get the best of her. But as his gaze fell on her, taking her in, Delilah froze, suddenly unable to form a thought in her head. 

Delilah had been so ready to confront him, the overwhelming need to protect Paige or any of her students from a stranger had taken over and left her thinking irrationally — for all she knew, this man could be a family friend. An uncle, a cousin, a neighbor! Why did her mind automatically go to ‘stranger danger’. 

“I uh,” Delilah shook her head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” She began to apologize while she twisted the ring on her finger, looking down at her hands. “I thought you were someone else.” She lied. Because what else was there to say? _I thought you were a pervert getting his kicks off of watching little kids dance?_ No, that probably wouldn’t go over well. 

Delilah turned a bit to get back to the studio, but stopped, flustered. “I, I work part time at the patisserie.” She told him, words tumbling out of her mouth. “Tell them Delilah said that whatever you want is on the house.” She then motioned to the spilt mess on his jacket. “Sorry about your coat.”

Jefferson really looked at this woman as she didn’t speak at first, dropping eye contact as soon as he’d said a word to her, so neither did he. Being mistaken for someone else was a first for him. Usually, people knew of him as the recluse in the woods and avoided contact. Was that what was going on here? She seemed flustered or bothered herself by the encounter, as she twiddled her ring. 

He was certain he didn’t know her face--not from _before_ either. But when she gave him her name, Delilah, he raised his chin in acknowledgement. There were lots of people he hadn’t met yet. That was nothing major.

“It’s just a coat,” he said, brushing off the need for recompense. “It was my own fault anyway. I thought you were speaking to someone else.” 

There was a trash can nearby so he chucked the empty cup. 

And since it probably wouldn’t hurt to be kind to his daughter’s ballet teacher, he added with a slight smile, “Nice to meet you, Delilah,” before he turned toward the patisserie.

“Oh!” Delilah said suddenly after hearing him speak. She recognized the voice right away — how could she forget? Delilah smiled at him brightly, recalling the first time she spoke to him. He was the anonymous donor funding Paige’s dance lessons, she was sure of it! That or someone else in this town could mimic his voice perfectly. 

“If you want,” Delilah said when the man turned towards the patisserie. “You’re more than welcome to come inside the studio to watch.” She told him. “I assume you’re a friend of the Grace family given your donation.” She said it without thinking. This man had wanted to remain anonymous and here she was; outing his generosity. “I bring pastries every lesson for the girls and their families, you’re welcome to those as well.” She said politely.

Fortunately, Jefferson’s back was to Delilah when she made it known that she recognized him. Or his voice anyway. His facial expression would have given away the second shock she had delivered to him. Smoothing his expression out once again, he turned, smiling politely. “That all sounds very nice but your first impulse was correct. You have me mistaken for someone else.” He nodded slightly hoping to encourage this line of thought. No way was he going to waltz right into that dance studio and cause a shock to Grace because he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to school his expression in front of her.

Delilah's brows rose in response to the man's lie. Because she knew it was indeed a lie. She frowned as he told her she had the wrong person — no, she didn’t. There had been something about the man's voice when she first spoke to him that felt familiar, even over the phone. Delilah had wracked her brain trying to put a face to the voice but always drew a blank. Storybrooke wasn’t necessarily a big town, Delilah knew most of the residents from her job at the patisserie but this man she only ever saw from afar. 

A short, burly man was approaching from behind Delilah and Jefferson’s eyes widened slightly as he saw the man’s eyes lock onto Jefferson’s. “Hey, YOU! Jefferson!” Leroy shouted and marched right up with tons of flyers in his hands. “‘Scuse me, Sister,” he said to Delilah, offering a few flyers to her before turning his attention back to Jefferson. 

_Jefferson._

The donation might have been anonymous — but the name on the check certainly wasn’t. Why did he just lie to her? Delilah frowned as Leroy continued on. 

“I’m glad you’re in town so I don’t have to drive all the way out into the boonies to track you down. You still gonna donate to Miner’s Day? It’s tomorrow after all. We’re in the hole because of Madam Mayor’s bogus taxes on imported cider and we haven’t gotten your check yet.”

Jefferson flushed. He’d just been outed doubly, not having intended to share his name. So much for anonymity. “Yes, I’ll bring it to the convent this afternoon.” He jerked his head at Leroy and made an eye at Delilah. 

“Good. Thank you,” the appropriately named dwarf said with a forced smile that said _‘I tolerate people because I have to’_ before turning to Delilah. “What about you, sister? Does the ballet studio have the budget for helping out the Sisters?”

Now that the attention was off of him, Jefferson rubbed at his forehead warily. He wouldn’t walk away now thanks to Leroy. So he crossed his arms and waited for ‘Grumpy’ to finish up and leave.

Delilah was hardly paying attention to what Leroy was saying, her eyes focused on Jefferson as she tried to figure out why he was lying. She blinked in surprise when Leroy began to speak to her next, hitting her up for a donation. 

“Of course,” Delilah said, mentally going over her budget to try and figure out how much she was able to give. “The patisserie will be donating as well.” 

“You baking?” Leroy asked next. 

Delilah smiled. “Sure am.” 

Leroy gave her a smile, or, his own version of a smile. “Put some up in your window?” He motioned to the flyers Delilah held. She nodded and watched as Leroy eyed Jefferson before leaving them. 

Delilah tilted her head to the side, looking at Jefferson once Leroy was gone. “Nice to finally meet you, Jefferson.” She said. He may be generous with his money, but he had flat out _lied_ to her, and likely would have continued on with the lie if it weren’t for Leroy. For what reason? She shook her head in disappointment and turned to head back to the studio. She wasn’t going to push him. 

Jefferson sighed and walked hastily to catch up to Delilah as he noticed that shake of the head. If he wasn’t scaring people off, he was disappointing them. “Look, I’m sorry,” he started but stopped when they got too near the dance window again. He could see some of the girls trying to see what was going on through the window. “Just--please, I wanted to keep her tuition anonymous.” He rolled his eyes, irritated that he should even need to explain, but he didn’t know Delilah. He could only hope she wouldn’t say something to Grace or to her adoptive parents. They could end up not allowing her to continue her lessons and then he’d have disappointed Grace, too.

It was with some force that he added the false name to be clear of whom he was speaking, as much as he hated saying that name. _“Paige…?”_

Maybe it was because she had looked at him with disappointment rather than being leery of him as most were of the ‘mad man,’ but he felt that he needed to fix this. 

Delilah had stopped when he apologized, turning just as he said Paige’s name. She frowned. The way he said it, as if it pained him to do so, it had been the same way he said it over the phone when he called Delilah to inquire about making an anonymous donation. 

“I can explain. Later. Your students are waiting for you...” He smiled slightly as he gestured toward the gawking girls.

She looked over her shoulder when she heard some of her students giggling as they stood by the large windows. Delilah huffed out a laugh, gesturing for them to get away from the window. Of course the girls would try and eavesdrop — Delilah had all but left them to run after a handsome man. Because he was handsome. She saw that now. Coming to that realization left her somewhat mortified, her face heating up in embarrassment.

When Delilah turned and noticed the girls’ giggling, and he heard her laugh, Jefferson’s slight smile turned into a full grin. It was cute how she seemed to adore the girls--his Grace included--and they seemed to feel the same about her. 

Delilah looked away from him, nodding her head, cheeks still flushed pink. Jefferson wanted to explain to her why it was so important to remain anonymous. She’d let him. 

Jefferson saw the pink in her cheeks but assumed it was the girls’ doting on her that caused it. She wasn’t looking at him, but at the flyers in hand. He had done something right in setting Grace up in ballet lessons and he could thank the stars he had come into town a month ago and listened to what the town girls were into. Grace was happy and so could he be.

“Sure,” She told him. Delilah didn’t know if he was actually planning on going through with his promise, but was willing to give him a chance. He seemed decent enough. Despite the lying. “Miners day.” She said, looking down at the flyers. “The girls will be performing a dance. Everyone’s welcome to come watch. Even those who want to remain anonymous.” She added with a small smile. 

Delilah’s ‘sure’ sobered his grin somewhat, but the happiness was still evident. Grace would be dancing for the public and Jefferson knew he would be extremely proud tomorrow. Even if he would be standing at a distance. Jefferson nodded. “I will definitely be there. And, thank you, Delilah,” his tone was sincere. 

“Of course,” She smiled, his thanks not necessary, but appreciated. Delilah bit down on her lower lip as she turned to head back into the dance studio where the girls were waiting for her. 

“Is that your _boyfriend_?” One of the girls asked loudly, causing Delilah to quickly shut the door in hopes that Jefferson hadn’t heard her, she felt her cheeks heating up once again, not daring to look over her shoulder to see if Jefferson was still there. 

The girls laughed at Delilah's reaction, making kissing noises. 

“Okay, enough.” She laughed, embarrassed but amused. “Let’s get back to it. We have a big day tomorrow.” 

She went on with her lesson, helping the girls out when they needed it. Paige continued to impress Delilah, a quick learner for having started lessons so much later than the other girls. 

90 minutes later, class was over and Delilah was cleaning up as the girls left.

“Miss Delilah?”

Delilah turned to see that Paige was still in the studio, her parents waiting for her outside. She smiled down at the girl. “Yes?” 

“What if I mess up tomorrow?” She frowned, looking down at her feet. Paige was clearly anxious. “If I’m not perfect,” 

“Hey,” Delilah stopped her from saying anything further. She bent down so that she was at eye level with Paige. “You are an amazing dancer, Paige.” She tried to assure her. “And even if you make a mistake...you continue on. Hold your head high and smile.”

“What if people laugh?” 

“Laugh with them!” Delilah pressed a hand to Paige’s shoulder. “No one person has ever gone through life without making a mistake. How you choose to handle your mistakes is what defines you.” She squeezed Paige’s shoulder. “So laugh, or cry, just know that you didn’t disappoint me.”

Paige took in a deep breath and nodded her head before hugging on tightly to Delilah. She chuckled and hugged her back.

And then she was alone. 

Delilah sighed as she looked around the empty studio. She walked over to the stereo and turned on a classic piece by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. She closed her eyes and let the music guide her, now dancing to _The Swan Lake_. 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Jefferson walked backwards a few steps until he saw Delilah turn and enter her studio. He heard what one girl said and then the door slammed behind him. Snorting with a smile, Jefferson kept walking, hands in his coat pockets. God, he missed his kid just for simple things like giggling.

The pastry shop was just there and while he had intended to go in to buy a pastry before speaking to Delilah, now he was curious at what else she could do. The pastries were ordered neatly in a glass case in rows. Colorful and some fruit-adorned, they were individual works of art.

He ordered a box full of a variety of pastries and a new coffee and left carrying the white paper box in a bag. It was a nice enough day, though crisp, and since Grace’s lesson would go on over another hour, he would use the time to walk to the convent. The nuns were pleased to have the pastries and even more so the check for Miner’s Day. They thanked him for it and he was tempted to tell them to thank Regina, but he kept that to himself. There was no reason to antagonize a bunch of cursed fairies.

After returning to town, he went back to the patisserie and bought a single pastry for himself to try-- _ pain au chocolat _ , the sign said. It was good, he’d have to tell Delilah later. They would have to talk. Sighing, he eased back into the oversoft couch thinking over what to do. The truth would be best, but he’d tried that one before on Emma and she had decked him with his own telescope. As close to the truth as possible, he amended. He really didn’t want to be looked at like he was the town nutter by Delilah. 

He checked the time and saw that the class should be over by then. Easing up out of the couch, he peered out the window toward the dance studio and saw Grace jogging to a familiar car. As it drove away, he could see the way her face was animated as she must have been talking about her lesson. If only he could hear what she had to say. 

After throwing away his wax paper, he stepped outside. The sound of classical music was filling the street. Listening to the sorrowful tune, he walked slowly toward the studio and peered in the doorway to see Delilah dancing inside to the music. The song was familiar. What was it… Tchaikovsky? Narrowing his eyes, he listened and watched. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was Swan Lake. The Swan Lake of this world was based on ‘a story,’ of course, just like most people in Storybrooke had. But those stories came from somewhere. A history. And Jefferson wondered what Delilah’s history was.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_Years ago in the Enchanted Forest_ **

  
  


Jefferson had a new job to do for Rumplestiltskin. To find an enchanted ring in the castle of a sorcerer called von Rothbart. Jefferson had done jobs like this before--stealing from magical or powerful folk. Once he’d had to break into Maleficent’s castle and steal a hand mirror. He never asked why the imp needed such things. He didn’t care, just as long as he got paid. And he was always paid copious amounts of gold for the risk against his person in such dangerous jobs. In a way, he enjoyed the danger. He always had good stories to tell of his adventures later.

He’d found the ring--of course he would, the arrogant young thief thought--and took a few other things from the castle while he was at it. Some things would just catch his eye and thinking they may have value, he would analyze them later. 

While leaving the castle, he saw paintings on the walls. The first in the series depicted a young woman dancing. The next was much darker featuring the same woman looking out with tears on her cheeks. It was almost as if she was looking straight through the canvas at him. She was  _ so sad. _ Jefferson stopped short and stared at the painting. Was this based on an actual model? The next showed the woman in a ghastly position, her body contorted as if in pain. The next two showed the transformation into a swan. A chill shook Jefferson where he stood.  _ Horrible,  _ he thought to himself. The paintings were disturbing enough that Jefferson wondered what kind of sorcerer Rumple had sent him to steal from, and hurried out before he could get caught.

That evening, he looked at the ring. It didn’t seem that important, not exactly glowing with magic, no ancient runes carved in it, nor any diamonds or rubies in it. Why the hell did Rumpelstiltskin always want all of this crap? He flicked through his bag to study the other things he’d pilfered. A scroll was one of the items. Unrolling it, he saw that it described the ring as something to protect the wearer. Protection? Why would such a powerful being like the Dark One need protection? There was nothing else about the ring on the parchment. Just a few other things about random magical objects he had not taken, therefore deemed unimportant. Jefferson tucked the ring into the pocket of his waistcoat. Maybe he would need this ring someday if he ever crossed a line with someone and needed protection. He’d just show Rumple some of this other stuff he’d grabbed like the cloak and a few sparkly bits inside glass vials. 

Of course, Rumpelstiltskin was disappointed in his lack of finding the ring, but had twiddled his fingers in delight at the vials, snatching them away greedily. Jefferson didn’t really care. He got paid. 

“Uh, one thing,” Jefferson said, as he had just been turning to leave the Dark Castle. “That sorcerer. He had disturbing paintings of a woman turning into a swan…” He had to fight the urge to shiver over the haunting portraits again.

“Oh pfft, yes.” Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand as if to dismiss it. “Mere child’s play. Anyone with an ounce of magic can curse another into an animal.” When Jefferson frowned at learning the paintings were indeed based on a real person, Rumpelstiltskin turned his back to Jefferson and popped the corks on two of the vials to pour them into a bigger vial. A puff of smoke emitted and the solution turned red. “Her name is Odette, but I fail to see how that should matter to you, Hatter. Here’s your next job…”

And Jefferson left the castle in search of a pair of slippers, the cursed swan girl at the back of his mind.

**_Present Day_ **

  
  
Jefferson looked the dancing young woman over. If he was remembering the painting correctly, she had hair just as brown and similar body type as Delilah. He couldn’t quite bring forth the image of the face in the painting--it was so long ago--just the immense sadness. “Hmm,” he muttered quietly.

With hands still in his coat pockets, he stepped just inside the door and waited for her to notice that he’d entered. 

The music was tragic. It had a mournful tone to it in a way and something in it spoke to Jefferson in the way his own insides had been twisted up in grief. Was the song meant to be grievous or was that simply his own interpretation? Swan Lake. If he remembered this land’s interpretation to the story correctly, then that made Delilah Odette.

* * *

  
  
Delilah exhaled deeply as the song faded away, now on the floor of the studio. Her toes and legs ached, calves on fire — it had been a while since she had danced to the Dying Swan, one of her favorites in the ballet. She wiped away a stray tear that had rolled down her cheek and moved to a sitting position. Back in this world, no longer in the fantasy world of performing, Delilah tensed when she realized she wasn’t alone in the studio, Jefferson’s reflection looked back at her in the mirrors. 

“Oh!” She said in surprise, not expecting his presence. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had made himself known, he could have been screaming her name for all she knew, and still Delilah wouldn’t have heard him. Not while she was dancing, utterly lost in the music. “Sorry,” She laughed in embarrassment as she got up, wincing as her feet went flat on the ground. She curled her toes, trying to get rid of the ache. When she looked back to Jefferson, she noticed he had indeed gone to the patisserie. She smiled, wondering what he had decided to get. 

Jefferson grinned when Delilah laughed at being caught dancing despite the errant tear she had brushed away. So it wasn’t just his own interpretation of it being a sad ballet. He wasn’t certain if the proper etiquette in catching someone dancing was to clap when they finished or simply compliment the performance. “I was the one imposing. That was really impressive.” He almost asked about the swan reference--was it a personal preference to swans, or just a coincidence? He could be totally off about the swan curse, after all. He’d never actually met Odette in the Enchanted Forest. He would have remembered her. And anyway, why hadn’t she been a swan in the daylight? No, he had to have been wrong.

Delilah looked at the clock, noticing the time. She’d need to head over to the patisserie to help out with the load of treats they were making to sell for Miners Day, all the proceeds going to the convent. “How good are you in the kitchen?” She asked. Delilah wanted to finish their conversation from earlier, but she also had a job to do. “Baking, specifically?” She smiled. 

Asking how good he was in the kitchen elicited a confused glance at the change of subject. She couldn’t possibly need his help. But he could guess with Miner’s Day coming up, she probably needed more of everything, and it was getting late. 

He rolled a shoulder in a casual shrug, sticking his lip out as he did so. “I don’t have the skills you do after what I saw in the patisserie, but I’ve been known to get creative in cooking.” 

Memories flooded back on the days when his little family had to live modestly to survive. Grace’s birthdays were still celebrated with grandeur by finding what they needed to decorate the little home and the cakes and tarts with things found in nature. And of course the tea parties needed mini tea cakes. And then after all of that, once he finally got Grace back, he had cooked for her. 

“I’ve got nowhere to be, so I’m at your disposal for the evening.” 

“Perfect!” Delilah said happily. “The crew will be happy for your help.” She said, speaking of the three older women who worked with Delilah in the patisserie. They’d also be happy to have a handsome face in the kitchen as well, but Delilah wasn’t going to add that tidbit. 

_ Crew? _ Jefferson wondered, realizing it wouldn’t just be he and Delilah. There wasn’t any chance he was going to be able to explain himself if other people were there. Well, a delay certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing. He would have time to arrange his words so he didn’t piss off Delilah and encourage violence as what had happened with Emma. Would Delilah get violent though? She was certainly strong based on the way he’d seen her dancing. Jefferson had totally misjudged Emma after all, and her mother too. Absently, he brushed at his middle where Snow White had kicked his ass right out his own window.

But rather than voice his doubts over helping several people cook--and they had been nice enough while he had bought the pastries, but he still wasn’t accustomed to conversing with random people--he merely said, “It’s no problem,” and fervently hoped he didn’t eat his words later. 

Delilah walked over to the coat rack, near where Jefferson was standing. She looked out the window at the sunny sky and frowned slightly, pulling her coat on. She wondered how the weather would be for Miners day, she was sure the whole town was hoping for sun, but Delilah would pray for an overcast. Just for the sake of her anxiety. 

She motioned for Jefferson to follow her, taking a moment to lock up the studio. “We’re going to be making a couple dozen pies,” Delilah told him as they walked to the Patisserie. “Some eclairs and of course; danishes,” she listed what she and her coworkers had decided on. Delilah looked to Jefferson, wondering if she was overwhelming him. “Unless that’s too much of a challenge.” She teased.

Following Delilah out the door, he was thinking of how he’d have to act as if none of this socializing was a challenge when she seemed to have read his mind. She asked if it was too much of a challenge, and his brows shot up. It sounded like she was trying to challenge him and he smirked. “Show me how you like it and I’m sure I can keep up,” he winked. 

When she opened the door to the Patisserie where Florence, Fran, and Mary stood behind the counter, their eyes went wide upon seeing Delilah entering the establishment with, gasp, a man. 

“Two visits in one day?” Mary said, eyes on Jefferson. “Someone has a sweet tooth.” She grinned. The other two women giggled under their breath. 

The three older women seemed to be the giggly sort. “Evidently, I do,” he agreed despite having a non-existent sweet tooth. His being there had little to do with pastries.

He slid a side-eye at Delilah--still slightly grinning at the reception they had gotten from the other ladies--as he removed his coat and tossed it over one of the couches, unbuttoned his cuffs, and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Everyone seemed to adore her, from the girls in the studio to her co-workers here. How could someone as sweet as she have been cursed by that evil sorcerer in the Enchanted Forest, he wondered. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked Delilah.

“Follow me,” Delilah told Jefferson, eyeing her three coworkers with raised brows, hoping that they would find something else to do for the time being. She hung her jacket on the coat rack, listening as the three women whispered to one another. They were as bad as her students with the gossiping. 

There was something about Delilah’s coworkers that made him feel at ease despite his earlier reservations. There didn’t seem to be any maliciousness about them at all. Good natured, even if busy-bodies. Sometimes he just couldn’t help antagonizing just a little and called over his shoulder. “See you lovely ladies later,” not minding if it sounded like he was flirting a bit. They could have been grandmothers for all he knew and older ladies seemed to love being reminded of their youth. The resultant chattering had him grinning again. 

“Lucky for you, we already have most of the pie dough made and ready,” she led him through the doors that brought them to the kitchen, “That just leaves making the fillings.” Delilah reached for her apron, tying it around her waist. She looked at Jefferson, more importantly his clothes. Delilah didn’t want to end up being the cause of any more of his clothes being ruined today. “You okay getting a little dirty?” She asked, eyes lifting to meet his gaze. Her skin flushed at the realization of what she had just said, eyes quickly dropping to her hands. 

Her mind drifting to what he had said while walking into the patisserie,  _ “Show me how you like it and I’m sure I can keep up,”  _ — she was glad she didn’t fall right on her face at his words, surprised by the slight innuendo, if it was one to begin with. Delilah shook her head, cheeks pink. “It’s hot in here.” She said with an embarrassed laugh, fanning herself. 

Delilah’s remark about how he was lucky drew his attention back to her as he followed into a different part of the kitchen. He wouldn’t mind pounding some dough into submission for a little stress relief, but that took time and they evidently had lots to do. _ Did he mind getting dirty? _ “Not if you don’t.” He observed Delilah’s face was flushed as he snagged another apron off a rack just after she did. She said it was hot in the kitchen, but he didn’t exactly feel it with the refrigerator blowing cold air into the room. Maybe he should remove his scarf-tie, but decided against it despite knowing he probably looked silly dressed in an apron with a vest and scarf of all things. But he was not about to expose his neck to Delilah. She was ready to talk apparently and the subject of his scar was not going to be brought up. 

“Uh, let’s get to work.” She said as she walked over to the large refrigerator to pull out the fruit they would be using in the pies. Delilah stood at the refrigerator for a moment, trying to cool herself off to hide the hint of pink in her cheeks. 

When she finally walked back over to Jefferson, she handed him the fruit. “And don’t think I haven’t forgotten that you owe me an explanation Mr. Anonymous.” She smiled up at him before walking over to get the rest of the ingredients she’d need to make the pie fillings. She was interested to hear what Jefferson had to say for himself — why he was willing to pay money for Paige’s dance lessons, and why he was being so cloak and dagger about it? 

He took the fruit and set it on the counter feigning interest in the contents as he wiggled the heavy ring off of his finger and stuck it into the apron pocket and moved to a nearby sink to wash his hands. 

“Well,” he started, suddenly at a loss for words at where the hell he should even begin.  _ We’re all cursed--yet again--and completely screwed over,  _ seemed an inadequate way to instill trust after all. After drying his hands, he found a spatula and picked it up, spinning it idly between his fingers like a baton. He looked at Delilah again. The damned cat had gotten his tongue. “Well,” he tried again. Truth or exaggerate? A little inspiration seemed to have struck. “Have you ever heard of me? Before today, I mean?”

Had she ever heard of him? Delilah blinked, she knew  _ of _ him. She knew that there was a wealthy man who lived comfortably in the woods in a large mansion that people could only dream of owning. The mansion, she heard, was even more beautiful than the Mayor's home. Not that she had ever ventured that far out into the woods to see it. “Well,” Delilah found herself saying now. “I work with three of the biggest gossips in town.” She tilted her head while smiling, pulling out the dough that needed to be rolled and fitted into the tins and placed it on the counter. She sprinkled flour on the smooth surface. “Chop,” Delilah said to Jefferson, motioning to the fruit that needed to be cut up. 

_ Chop, _ she said and Jefferson reached for one of the vegetable knives. He was grinning down at the strawberries as he reached into the bowl and grabbed a handful to chop into small chunks. He had snorted at her description of the ladies up front. “I’m used to gossips and they seem harmless enough.” She didn’t mention anything about people calling him crazy, at least. 

“They’ve never spoken badly about you, of course. Mostly they talk about your home.” She continued on. “And how you hardly ever come into town.” Delilah looked over at Jefferson to see his reaction. Whenever her coworkers gossiped about the townspeople, she rarely listened. Even when it was about the mysterious rich man who lived out in the woods. Honestly, Delilah pictured a grumpy old man — a Scrooge. She was pleasantly surprised that she was wrong. 

Delilah had been working on rolling out the pie dough, her focus on her work and not Jefferson’s cutting of the fruit. It was a simple task, anyone could easily cut up strawberries, no need to hover. “Why?” She asked him. “Is there some scandalous secret about you that I haven’t heard?” 

The knife was making a quick knocking sound on the stainless steel counter as he worked quickly through the strawberries. “There’s a reason I once avoided coming into town. In the beginning, I wasn’t welcome. I know things I shouldn’t and certain people of influence-- _ Regina,”  _ he said under his breath with a side glance at Delilah, “had made it very clear that I was to stay out of her town.” 

Now that the strawberries were finished, he scooped them back up and dropped them by the handful back into the bowl and slid it to Delilah. Shaking his head, Jefferson reached into another bowl to withdraw an apple. He held it up looking at it and smirked. He selected a thinner knife from the magnetic strip on the wall. “ Not only am I good with my hands ,” he said as he set to work on the apple, his focus entirely on the delicate work. “But also at finding things.”

_ Good with his hands?  _ An indecent thought crossed her mind that caused Delilah to purse her lips together to keep from smiling. 

“Lost treasures, artifacts, people, whatever. Long story short, I made an enemy out of our dear mayor and she made certain I’d pay for it. I care less about hiding away out there in the woods these days and more about one thing. Hence the anonymity I asked for.” 

Delilah's brows rose in surprise when he brought up the Mayor being an  _ enemy.  _ Enemy? Yeah, Regina could be a real hag of a woman and no one enjoyed being on her bad side but she had never heard someone reference the woman as an enemy. The term sounded so...life and death. 

Jefferson realized he was rambling and probably confusing sweet, innocent Delilah.  _ Might as well just say it. _ “My daughter. Paige…  _ Grace _ . I lost her years ago and she doesn’t remember me.” 

Jefferson only cared about  _ one  _ thing. Delilah nearly dropped the wooden roll on the ground when he confessed that Paige — no,  _ Grace, ( _ he was calling her) — was his daughter. A daughter who he lost. Paige, or, Grace, didn’t remember who Jefferson was...how was that even possible? She looked at him with wide eyes at this revelation. 

Paige was...adopted?

He shot a quick look at Delilah as he extended his palm to her with a carved fruit swan sitting there. “What do you think? Is there any hope for me?”

She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it when Jefferson turned her attention to the apple he held in his palm. She blinked a few times, shocked by what he created. “Wow.” She whispered as he asked her what she thought of his work. “You weren’t lying about being good with your hands.” Delilah said under her breath. She gazed down at the fruit, sculpted to look like a swan. 

Suddenly a wave of anxiety hit her as she looked at the swan. She twisted the ring on her finger, eyes glued to the swan. It was the same anxiety she always felt while being in the sun too long. Delilah took a step back, placing her hand on her chest to try and calm herself. “Y-you should uh,” Delilah felt her words catch in her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little,” she cleared her throat and then licked her lips, unable to finish her sentence. Water. She needed water. She blinked, feeling lightheaded.  _ Trapped. _ She was feeling trapped for some reason. “It’s really hot in here.” She said again, moving to take a step backwards only to wobble side to side before hitting the ground. 

Everything went black. 

_ Hair as red as fire, eyes cold, dark, menacing, a golden heart locket snatched from her neck. “You’re mine!” A voice growled. Bloody hands, a glowing heart crushed into ash, wings — feathers — a prison.  _

_ “Everyone you love is dead. Which means that no one will ever save you from this curse, Odette. You are mine...forever.”  _

  
  


* * *

  
  


The way Delilah reacted to the swan told Jefferson two things. First, he had been right. Second, he was a complete ass for showing her a swan in her cursed state. He hadn’t expected such a strong reaction. She was having a panic attack. The apple swan fell from his hand and hit the floor unnoticed, apple slices scattering everywhere. He was too slow to catch her as she went down fast, but he was able to keep her head from striking the ground. 

She had brought his attention to how hot it was and suddenly he felt it too, but it was the rise of his own panic over what was happening to her. Looking up from where he kneeled next to Delilah, he reached out and pulled the door to the refrigerator open so the cool vapors could reach her. 

He yanked his scarf off and tucked it under her head as a cushion against the cement floor and then found a towel to wet in the sink and brought it back to her to help cool her face and neck. 

“Delilah,” he said urgently. “I’m sorry. You’re not alone.” He brushed her hair away from her face as he continued to dab the cool towel on her heated skin. “You’re not alone,” he repeated.

Flashes of his own panics crossed his mind of when the first curse had struck and he first realized what had happened. Oh, he had gotten out of the hell that was Wonderland only to be delivered straight into a new one, utterly and completely alone in his knowledge and in that accursed mansion. Regina had completely isolated him and the panic attacks had been many. He had  _ known _ , at least, but Delilah wouldn’t know why she was reacting like this to something like carved fruit. Was it easier not knowing? He wasn’t sure, but it wouldn’t be any less frustrating.

“Delilah, honey, wake up.” He reached for her wrist to check her pulse. Rapid. “Shit,” he whispered. But the glint of metal on her finger drew his eyes as he mentally counted the beats of her heart. He turned her hand so he could get a better look at it.  _ The ring was very familiar.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

* * *

  
  


**ENCHANTED FOREST**

  
  


_ “Now don’t let my little spell make you sad, Odette,” the sorcerer taunted the swan. “It doesn’t even last the whole day. As soon as the moon comes up.” He looked up at the sky, taking in the moon's light and then turned back to the swan, watching as the water glimmered, a cloud of magic engulfing the swan until finally Odette emerged, human once again. Rothbart gave her a wicked grin. “Ta-da! And that’s how it works,” he told her. “Every night.” Odette glared, legs feeling weak as they held up the weight of her human body. “You have to be on the lake, of course, so the moonlight can touch your wings.” Rothbart stepped into the lake where Odette refused to move or speak. He held out his hand for her to take but Odette refused. “Now, look, Odette. This sort of thing doesn’t give me any pleasure.” He drawled, smirking slightly. “Well, maybe a teensy bit.” Rothbart confessed. “But what I really want is your father's kingdom.”  _

_ “Take it then!” Odette spat out, finally speaking. “You have enough power to do so.”  _

_ “No,” he shook his head. “Tried that already.” Rothbart grabbed at Odette's wrists, yanking her forward. “Once you steal something, you spend your whole life fighting to keep it.” He then smiled, snapping his fingers and suddenly Odette found herself in a white wedding gown. “But if I marry the only heir to the throne,” He dropped down on one knee, the world around them spun and suddenly they were no longer in the lake, instead in her father's castle with all the kingdom folk surrounding them, gracefully bowing their heads and falling to their knees, “we’ll rule your father's kingdom together, legally. As King and Queen.” He kissed the back of her hand.  _

_ Odette’s eyes widened in horror as she snatched her hand away. “Never!” She told Rothbart, watching as the magic around them disappeared and they were back in the lake. She shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to fall into the water as she ran away from him and out of the lake. _

_ Rothbart laughed at her action. “Where are you going?” He shouted, still laughing. “As soon as moonlight leaves the lake, you’ll turn back into a swan...no matter where you are.”  _

_ Odette stopped running, looking over her shoulder at Rothbart. “You’re lying.”  _

_ “I would never.” He stood up and walked out of the lake. “Not to you.”  _

_ “Derek will find me.” She was certain of it. Derek would find her and break her curse with True Love's kiss — and together they would defeat Rothbart.  _

_ Rothbart stood in front of her now, glaring. “Your prince?”  _

_ “Yes.”  _

_ “‘Suppose I’ll have to kill him, too.” He shrugged. “The same way I killed your father.” Odette shook her head, tears threatening to spill. “Such a foolish man to try and trade his heart for your freedom.”  _

_ “You are the fool!” Odette yelled. “To ever think I’d marry you after you killed my father!”  _

_ Rothbart simply grinned. “You’ll come around. Because if you don’t...you’ll be stuck like this for the rest of your life.”  _

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


**STORYBROOKE**

  
  
  


The cool air against her skin was soothing, she could feel a dampness touching her forehead and then her cheeks. She let out a small whimper, not understanding what had happened. Delilah could hear her pulse in her ears, a fast rhythm drumming loudly, blocking out any other noise. 

Delilah reached for the first thing near her, holding on tightly, praying that it grounded her. Her breathing sped up, and soon she was gasping for air. She blinked, eyes blurry as they opened. A silhouette of a person, a man —  _ Jefferson!  _ She was with Jefferson before she had fainted. She opened her mouth to say his name but couldn’t hear her own voice. 

Fingers gripped his wrist tightly as he was taking Delilah’s pulse and his eyes moved away from the ring to her face. Her eyes were open and she was looking at him but not speaking. He dropped the wet towel and set his free hand on her forehead.

Just then a voice behind him approached, saying her name. “Delilah?”  _ Oh. Those ladies up front.  _ He should have called for them to help. “Oh dear, not again.” It was Mary. They knew her better and might know better what to do. Pulling his hand away from Delilah’s face, he cleared his throat and attempted to move out of the way except she was gripping his wrist. 

She and Jefferson were no longer alone in the kitchen.

“It’s alright, Delilah. Just breathe.” She could hear Florence saying now. 

“It’s been so long since she’s had one of these episodes.” Fran whispered. 

Delilah tried to take a deep breath but failed, unable to fight the panic she felt. She just needed to  _ breathe.  _ A simple thing to do, yet it felt impossible. She looked to Jefferson with wide, terrified eyes. Oh, what he must think of her. 

_ Episodes? _ Is that how they justified fainting based on a trigger? This was something he’d invoked upon her. He shouldn’t be here. But he was and he needed to fix this. 

Instead of trying to back away, he turned his ensnared wrist to break her grip on him and slipped his hand into hers, bringing her hand close to his chest. He leaned closer to Delilah, himself imagining those women weren’t hovering and talking about her as if she wasn’t there or couldn’t hear them. “Delilah,” he said quietly. “Look at me. You’re not alone.” He’d had to work through his own panics alone, but she wouldn’t have to. He breathed in slowly and exhaled slowly, hoping she could do the same. 

Delilah shut out the voices of Mary, Florence, and Fran. Instead, focusing solely on Jefferson. Her eyes landed on his lips, blinking slowly as she watched him breath in and out, in and out, in and out. She mimicked him, finally able to slow her breathing.  _ You’re not alone,  _ he told her. She nodded her head slowly, big doe eyes still focused on him as her heart rate steadied. Her eyes drifted down to their hands, clasped together and resting above Jefferson’s chest. She could feel his heart beating, the sensation calming her further. She continued to breath slowly, eyes traveling back up to his face only to stop when she noticed something on his neck. 

Her eyes blurred, and she blinked hard, trying to focus them as she continued to look at his neck. He wasn’t wearing his scarf, and without it wrapped around his neck she saw a large scar. Delilah let go of his hand and found herself reaching up to touch the scar — it was real, right? She wasn’t hallucinating. With a shaky breath, her fingers skimmed along the long line. She could feel his pulse beneath her touch, she frowned, wondering how he got the scar. 

It looked like someone had tried to slit his throat — unsuccessfully. 

He froze as soon as her fingers touched his neck. It was as if all the nerve endings in his body were lit and threatening to burst. His eyes would show shock as he stared at Delilah.  _ Back away, _ his mind was demanding. But he was frozen on the spot. 

It would serve him right for her to judge him for that scar. He caused her to have that panic attack. He stayed where he was, waiting for that look of horror to show as it always did when people saw his throat. It was unnatural. People didn’t just survive something like that as he had. 

“Delilah,” Florence said her name, causing her to drop her hand from his neck. “Should we call for Dr. Whale?” 

When Delilah’s hand dropped from Jefferson’s neck and he felt he could move again, could breathe. He sat a good foot farther back as he took in what had happened. And what had not happened. There hadn’t been any judgement in her eyes. Not yet. Just curiosity, perhaps. He looked away to the three women asking about calling Doctor Whale. “That might not be a bad idea.” He looked back at Delilah. He couldn’t tell her  _ why _ she had reacted that way despite his knowing. Sometimes everything sucked. 

She blinked a few times, looking at the women who were watching her carefully. “No.” Her throat was dry, her voice coming out as a rasp. “No, I’m fine.” She then looked to Jefferson. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I, I don’t know why.” Delilah pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. “I’m okay.” She told him. 

Jefferson had agreed with Florence in having Delilah seen by Dr. Whale. She looked over at him, saw his expression and couldn’t help but frown. Delilah could see it in his eyes — he was scared. She had probably traumatized him. Jefferson was looking like he wanted to bolt, run as far away from her as possible. Delilah tried not to take it personally, but who wouldn’t? 

Clearing her throat, Delilah got up from the ground, avoiding Jefferson’s eyes. She looked to Mary, Florence, and Fran. “No need.” She walked over to grab herself a cup and then headed to the sink, filling the glass with water and took a large gulp. Delilah took in a deep breath and forced a smile. “Really, I’m fine.” She turned back to them, hoping they wouldn’t see right through her lie. 

When Delilah got up from the floor, it took everything Jefferson had in self control to not snatch the scarf up from the floor immediately. Instead, he kept watch over Delilah as she walked to the sink in case she should be wobbly on her feet.

She dismissed the idea of being seen by a doctor—that quack—as Jefferson figured she would. So would he. The ladies looked to Jefferson and he shrugged. What was he going to do? Make her go against her will? Nope. Instead, he bent as casually as he could manage, picked up his scarf and quickly looped it around his neck, safe and secure from sight, and he felt himself calm again. His shoulders relaxed.

Delilah swallowed hard before looking at Jefferson. “Thanks for your help.” She told him, trying to keep her tone even, willing her voice not to falter. He had  _ helped _ her through her panic attack and then once she was calm, literally shrunk away from her as if she was fire and he was being burned. “I think I’ve got everything handled.” That was another lie. She actually did need help. Florence, Fran, and Mary would have to do. 

As he was tucking the ends of the scarf into his vest above the apron, he heard Delilah address him and he glanced up. Well that a clear enough dismissal. What the hell had he done wrong? Hadn’t he helped? Or perhaps she remembered that it was his fault she had panicked. Maybe he should just leave.

“Do you ladies mind running to the market to grab a couple more apples?” She tried not to think of the one Jefferson had carved. The  _ swan. _ Why it had affected her the way it had, she didn’t know. 

“Of course.” They said in unison and then left. 

Delilah walked over the counter and went back to rolling the dough, her back to Jefferson. A tear rolled down her cheek and she huffed in frustration, quick to wipe it away. 

She hated how emotional she was. Crying when she was sad, crying when she was happy, crying when she was angry, and worse — crying while embarrassed. Because that’s what she was. 

_ Embarrassed.  _

Her companions left on their own mission for more apples and Jefferson wondered what had happened to the apple that he had carved. Looking around for it, he saw the remnants all over the floor. She’d have to point blank make him leave before cleaning up his mess though. “You know, I recall being challenged to help make several pies and I’ve never been one to give up.” There were some brooms in a corner so he grabbed one and began sweeping up the apple mess. “But if you think I have no hope for a future in the dessert business, then I guess my ego can handle it.” He tried not to smile at that, hoping his self-deprecating humor would help ease the awkwardness. 

_ Wait.  _ Was she crying? His fault. Damn it. He bent his head and quickly swept the apple pieces out of the way.

Delilah closed her eyes when Jefferson spoke up, embarrassed still by her emotions. What he must think of her! An utter mess of a woman! 

“Jefferson,” she finally turned to look at where he stood with the broom in his hands. “I won’t be offended if you take this opportunity to bolt.” Delilah shook her head. “If I made you uncomfortable.” She sighed. “Like I said, I won’t be offended if you want to go.” It had been clear on his face moments earlier that he was desperate for an escape. 

She thought about what he had said, about her challenging him to help make the pies — was that his way of telling her he was willing to stay? “Even if you have talented, useful hands,” Delilah said, looking to the ground. She was sure Jefferson didn’t  _ actually _ want to have a future in the dessert making world, but he was talented enough to pick it up as a skill. “It’s up to you.” Delilah managed to give him a genuine, soft smile. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to hear more about Paige — but she wasn’t going to push him. 

Jefferson’s brows shot up and he slowly said, “ _ Bolt _ ?” with emphasis on the B. Okay, maybe she was right on that. He had been ready to go. His words sounded a little defensive as he said, “I’m just not used to people seeing my neck.” And she had reached right out and touched it. “I usually get the ‘monster’ label and they go running for the hills.” He shrugged. “You didn’t. Not that you could with being on the floor and me hovering over you.” He smirked. “Sorry for showing off with the apple.” 

She really was challenging him. In a way, he realized as he swept hurriedly in order to make sure he got every single apple slice up--he’d show her--he kind of liked the challenge. Even if he was confused as hell. He still wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. She was complimenting his hands. So she did want him to stay? He shook his head as he finished with the damn apples--what a fiasco that had been--and washed his hands so he could stand beside her again. “I’ll stay.”

He had brought up his neck. Delilah had noticed the scarf was back on, covering the scar. “Monster!” She exclaimed in disgust. “For a scar?” No, he wasn’t a monster. “You look the furthest thing from it, Jefferson.” She said without thinking, stopping before she could say that he was very easy on the eyes. 

Jefferson shrugged when she seemed to not believe him over the looks he had gotten. Hearing her even saying the word  _ monster _ stung just a little. That was why he covered it up. Not having to explain himself was preferable to any of that. He had been quite a nice guy, once upon a time, after all even if a conman. He was of a mind that he had deserved it in a way for abandoning Grace when he had promised not to. But Grace hadn’t deserved being abandoned.

“I wonder how well you’d do making lattice for the pies,” Delilah said, it wasn’t a question, more her thinking out loud than anything. 

Delilah drew him out of introspection when she began to show him how to make lattice. It seemed easy enough. Roll the dough thin, but not too thin, and rock the… fancy cutter thing into straight lines. It was almost like cutting strips of fabric for hats with a rotary tool. He listened, followed her directions, and was weaving the strips in and out in a lattice pattern on the pies. It was meditative work, a form of catharsis from the stress weighing him down. He wondered if Delilah felt the same doing this or when she danced. 

He felt comfortable working beside her. No wonder she was a ballet teacher. Teaching was clearly a gift she had. And her company was easy-going. He could relax. As long as he didn’t make anymore damn swans.

Delilah moved on to mixing the fruit together with cornstarch, sugar, lemon zest and a pinch of salt, adding the occasional spices she used to give the filling an extra bit of sweetness. Each pie tin was perfectly sculpted, Delilah showing Jefferson how to shape the crust before she moved on quickly to make the other fillings, pumpkin, apple, cherry, and of course, her most favorite; chocolate. 

“Is anything better than chocolate pie?” She asked with a smile, whisking some of the ingredients together in a large bowl. “I could eat a whole one myself.” 

He grinned, looking back at the pie he was finishing, pinching the edge closed along the circumference of the dish. “I can think of a few things.” The pie looked pretty damn good for his first lattice work. He nodded at it, deeming it ready for baking and put it in the oven to bake. 

“Hmm… I make a mean stew.” He grinned, looking up to Delilah briefly to see her reaction to the completely different genre of food. “I used to have a garden and would pick all the vegetables and herbs for it, clean them, chop them up and stew them all day.” 

She raised her brows, pleasantly surprised to learn that Jefferson was able to cook. A grin formed on her lips as he talked about his process. The way he spoke about the stew with such fondness had Delilah wondering what was so important to him about the meal. Perhaps it was because of  _ who _ he made it with. Someone close to him, perhaps? 

**Paige.** His daughter. Jefferson said her name was Grace and she had forgotten him. It confused her, but the way he spoke about her, even the way Delilah had caught him watching her — he wasn’t lying. That much she was certain of. A million questions buzzed in her mind. Did he put her up for adoption? Was she in some sort of accident that caused her to forget him and her birth name? How come he wasn’t trying to get her back? To gain custody of her. She was his daughter after all 

It had been a very, very long time since he’d made that stew but now he wanted to try it again. “I’ll cook it for you sometime and you’ll see.” He glanced quickly at Delilah once again before looking back at the intricate pattern he was weaving. Maybe he was getting too comfortable around her. He’d only just started talking to her today. If she declined, he would understand why. 

His words pulled her out of her head. Delilah grinned, that sounded an awful lot like an invitation to dinner— maybe not today, but in the future. Perhaps she hadn’t scared him off after all. “I like the idea of someone cooking for me; it would be a nice change.” 

She didn’t say no to his invitation to cook for her. No one else cooks for her. That was an interesting bit of info to learn about her. His eyes moved to her hands and he saw the ring again. It was on her index finger, not ring finger. He wasn’t sure why the ring was so familiar and dismissed it again. She wasn’t married at least. 

Delilah looked at the lattice he had created and chuckled. “You really are a natural,” she told him honestly. They had been working together now for almost an hour, the pies ready to be put in the oven in the oven. “That’s it for the pies.” She told him, letting out a sigh of relief that they had got it done. “Are you busy the rest of the day?” Delilah asked Jefferson. She still needed to make the eclairs and danishes and with her coworkers taking their sweet time at the market, an extra set of hands in the kitchen would help. That, and she wasn’t exactly ready to say goodbye to Jefferson just yet. 

She complimented the work he had done and he looked to the row of pies waiting to be baked. _Really?_ _They’re just woven tops._ “No need to flatter me, Delilah,” he said, dismissing the praise. “I’ll help you regardless.” He chuckled at her complimenting him. It was just because she really needed the help for tomorrow. He had noticed the shop bell hadn’t rung meaning her coworkers were still gone on their apple expedition. Yeah, he could bake desserts and could make animals out of fruit and bits of scrap fabrics, but it wasn’t worth getting worked up over.

It was odd how comfortably she worked with him. Even with Mary, Florence and Fran, she had never felt this much ease in the kitchen. Usually the three women would end up bickering and Delilah was forced to play mediator. But with Jefferson, it was different. It was part of the reason she didn’t want him to leave. But if he didn’t want to spend his day with her baking, she’d understand. 

She had distracted him over wondering about one thing, however. “So...your boyfriend doesn’t cook for you?” he asked boldly, smiling slightly as he glanced at Delilah and tapped her ring. Maybe she would tell him about that ring sometime and help jog his memory of why he was certain he had seen it before. He knew he was goading her into opening up about herself, and he didn’t care if it was too forward. He wanted to know more about her, too.

“Boyfriend?” Delilah couldn’t help but laugh. How absurd! What gave Jefferson the idea that she was in a relationship? Delilah woke up before the sun rose every morning to get the patisserie shop up and running so that the townspeople could get their daily fill of pastries, and when she wasn’t baking, she was working at the dance studio. Delilah had very limited free time working two jobs, but how would Jefferson know that? 

Jefferson had tapped the ring on her index finger and she looked down at the ring. 

“This?” She smiled at Jefferson.  _ No _ , it wasn’t a ring from any boyfriend. The ring was just something that Delilah always wore. She never took it off, even when baking or showering. It was as if it were permanently forged to her finger, always keeping her safe. “It’s just something I wear for good luck.” 

It was the partial truth. She wasn’t about to tell him that deep in her gut she believed that something bad would happen to her if she took it off. Delilah didn’t want Jefferson thinking she was a mad woman. 

_ Good luck _ , she said and Jefferson knew.  _ That’s _ where he knew that ring from! It was his! Or at least it was his after he stole it. The realization might show in his eyes merely as surprise to her lack of a relationship. That was something else to ponder over. A catch like her, single? Meanwhile, he was trying to think of when the last time he had been in possession of the ring. Certainly when Grace was a very, very young child. Shortly, after Priscilla had died. “Protection,” he agreed, nodding at the ring, and recalling what that scroll had said about it--very little. It was the ring he had stolen from that terrifying sorcerer’s castle on Rumplestiltskin’s errand. Funny how she had ended up with the ring from the very place that cursed her. What was he missing here? Maybe he ought to go pay his old acquaintance, the pawnbroker, a visit and inquire further about it. It’s not like he had anything to lose  _ now _ if he associated with Rumplestiltskin again.

Delilah pursed her lips, deciding whether or not to ask him if he was seeing anyone. His daughter wasn’t born immaculately, she must have a mother. A thought crossed her mind; maybe Jefferson hadn’t put Paige up for adoption. What if Mrs. Grace  _ was  _ her biological mother and she and Jefferson had an affair? Delilah shook her head. That thought felt like something Fran would tell her, gossiping about some sort of illicit affair. 

If it were true, it would explain why Jefferson stayed away. How he  **lost** her. 

“I assume you cook for your girlfriend?” She asked, shifting on her feet. “Or wife,” Delilah looked down at the ground. “Boyfriend?” She smirked. 

He was watching Delilah’s eyes as he wondered when she mentioned his relationship status and he blinked at her, processing what she said, before bursting with laughter. He could have corrected her assumption and said that he was a widower, but the way she was smirking at him with humor in her eyes, thinking he might favor men--no, he wouldn’t ruin the moment. “Is it because of the way I dress? I don’t own a single tee shirt. Not with...” He vaguely gestured toward his concealed neck. 

Delilah pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. He mentioned his clothes and she couldn’t help herself any longer. He certainly stuck out compared to the other men in Storybrooke because of his wardrobe.  _ Not a single tee shirt. Not with... _ **oh.** Delilah sobered up, watching him gesture to his neck. 

The scar.

Clearly he was ashamed of it. 

Delilah looked away from his neck, wondering what had happened to Jefferson. Someone had  _ hurt _ him, badly. She couldn’t imagine having to look in the mirror every morning and be reminded of whatever terrible event transpired that left him with the scar. Delilah bit down on her lower lip, contemplating asking him more about it. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable and clearly it was a subject he didn’t enjoy talking about. 

“And no, none of the above. It’s just me in that house in the woods.” His grin faltered, but he shrugged it off. He was used to being alone there anyway. “So I’m free to cook for you.” He grinned again at her before he began to put the pies into the oven.

He was single, all alone in his house in the woods. She wondered why he had bought such a large home when it was just him — Delilah's house was small, one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. Yet, even she felt alone at times, feeling so small in her home. She couldn’t imagine the loneliness Jefferson must feel on a daily basis. 

Delilah smiled when he mentioned cooking for her again, letting her know that he was free to do so — no attachment stopping him. 

“I’d say you could make it for me tonight but it seems like quite the process.” She said, remembering Jefferson explaining all he did to get the stew ready. 

Jefferson blew out the air he was holding, thinking over if that would be possible in such short notice. “Tonight? If you don’t mind staying up all hours of the night in anticipation of the best stew you ever had...” Jefferson winked at that, not expecting her to agree. It was obvious enough to him that he was exaggerating just to joke around. She’d probably be bored out of her mind and starving. “A good stew would need to simmer for hours.” He mentally ran through a list of things he would need. Everything! He had no garden now. In fact his yard was probably an overgrown shamble. He’d paid no attention to it at all, a yard being the very last thing on his mind. Maybe he would need to correct that. But it was winter after all. There wasn’t much he could do now except go to the grocery store.

“As tempting as your stew and  _ offer  _ sounds—” There was too much she needed to do to get everything ready for the performance tomorrow. “I have a dozen little ballerinas who would be mighty upset with me if I fell asleep during their dance.” His daughter included. 

Perhaps tomorrow? No, she’d be busy with Miner’s Day. And Jefferson had a very important dance to see. She was excited to see Paige—Grace, show the town what an incredible dancer she was, so graceful. Delilah smiled, thinking that Jefferson had picked the perfect name for his daughter. A name that was her surname now. That was odd. 

All the pies were in the oven now, Delilah closing the large oven door to keep the heat in. She glanced down at her hand on the ovens door, eyes on her ring.  _ Protection, _ Jefferson had said casually. Yes, somehow it did protect her. From what? Her own fears? Her unexplainable anxiety of being in the daylight for too long? Whatever this ring protected her from, she wasn’t about to risk it by taking it off. 

He noticed Delilah was looking down at her ring. What could he say about it?  _ Hey, I stole that years ago from some creep that hurt you. Did you take it from my house? Pfft.  _ How the hell had she gotten it from him? A sinking feeling crept into his stomach like a rock when he recalled that he was missing a good chunk of time from his memory. What if… “Delilah?” he started. “Are you sure we haven’t met before today?” He knew that sounded weird, but how else could he ask? “Maybe it’s just a feeling of deja vu.” 

She most certainly would have remembered meeting Jefferson before today. Those blue eyes? Unforgettable. But she wasn’t going to say that to him. 

“Maybe we knew each other in a past life?” Delilah suggested with a cheeky smile, setting the ingredients down. “Or in a parallel universe?” She joked while walking over to the stove. 

Did she believe in past lives? She had never really given much thought to it. The same went for parallel universes — it would be extraordinary, but she didn’t have enough scientific knowledge to know if they were real. 

Jefferson laughed nervously as he stared at Delilah as she worked. Past life. Parallel Universe. Gods! She had no idea what she was even saying and it was 100% right about the existence of parallel universes! Did he know her  _ before?  _ Wouldn’t he have remembered her? He would like to know her better anyway.

This always happened to him, he told himself, every-single-time someone said something too close to the actual truth about who they all were. He became a weirdo with a tendency for giggles.  _ Get it together, idiot!  _ He rubbed his forehead with his wrist as she walked to the stove and dealt with the butter and things. He wasn’t really paying attention. 

“Why do you ask?” Delilah wondered out loud, a large saucepan of butter and water getting ready to boil on the stove. Once the butter was melted, she’d add the flour and salt, mixing everything together until it formed a stiff ball. She’d need the eggs soon, “do you mind?” She said over her shoulder, pointing to the large carton of eggs on the counter with the wooden spoon she held in her hand. 

Why did he ask what? What was she talking about now? So discombobulated was he that he wasn’t sure if she had said something else. He ran his tongue over his lip, and nodded. She pointed at the eggs and he saw the spoon in her hand so he reached out and plucked it from her hands and took to cracking the eggs one handed and whipping them in the bowl for her. 

He shook his head, grinning slightly. “That must be it then. Another life, a parallel land somewhere that we knew each other. Ha.”  _ There is going to be hell to pay _ , he thought.  _ Next time I see Regina, I’m going to throttle her.  _ He might have been whipping the eggs a little too briskly.

Delilah should have been more specific about the eggs. She needed them brought to her, not whisked. Each egg had to be added into the mix slowly to get the dough to be the right consistency. Delilah left the stove, walking over to Jefferson with a soft smile. “Easy there.” She reached out to touch his wrist, trying to stop him from whisking. “Apparently our shorthand needs some work.” Delilah said, taking the bowl from his hands. “Making eclairs is always a delicate process.” She explained how each egg would need to be stirred in one at a time. Delilah motioned for him to follow her as she took the carton of eggs. 

Cracking an egg against the side of the now cooled, Delilah let the egg drop onto the ball of dough. She then used the wooden spoon to stir into the dough. Delilah then grabbed an egg and handed it to Jefferson. “You crack, and I stir.” She instructed him, easily getting back into the flow. 

“We must have been friends in this other world.” Delilah decided with a smile. 

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

* * *

It had been hours since the three ladies up front had left to go apple shopping so that when the bell jingled at the door, Jefferson looked up expecting to see customers. Instead, they came bustling in, louder than ever. Jefferson grinned at Delilah. The cavalry was back and stampeding back to the kitchen. They chattered on like a bunch of hens about how the price of apples had skyrocketed due to the import tax Leroy had mentioned earlier. Jefferson only kept his mouth shut and shook his head, still grinning as he finished up with the danishes Delilah had taught him to make. 

One of the ladies--Jefferson still hadn’t caught any of their names--hooted loudly as if he’d done something wrong and his head jerked back at the noise. It had been so peaceful in the kitchen with Delilah. “What! Why are you still here? Go! The both of you. Shoo! We can finish up! We’ve been dawdling long enough over the new manager--oof!” It seemed the one who wore red didn’t want some secret out as she jabbed the green-clad lady in the ribs. “I mean, you two have worked so hard,” she said more sweetly before sticking her tongue out at the red one. Mhm. She was definitely hiding something. 

Still Jefferson grinned and dusted his hands off and pulled the apron over his head to hang it back up. The sun was starting to go down after all and Delilah did say she needed rest before tomorrow’s event. “I agree wholeheartedly. Delilah has been cracking the whip in this kitchen. I’ve never made so much dessert in my life.”  _ Or enjoyed it so much, _ he thought as he grinned at Delilah.

“Are you sure?” She had asked the three women, most of the work had been done, but there was always more to help with when it came to these three. Before Delilah had started working at the Patisserie, Fran couldn’t even make a cake properly, the cake always ending up lopsided or half baked. “I can always stay.” She said as Jefferson began to gather his things. “I do work here after all.” She reminded them as she slid on her coat. 

“Yes, dear.” Florence said sweetly, “And we do appreciate all the hard work you’ve done.” Adding at the end, “the both of you — but it’s time for you to go home. Rest up for tomorrow. You and your girls have a big day ahead of you.” 

Delilah smiled at Florence, a wave of affection flooded her for the older woman. For all of them, really. Delilah had no family in Storybrooke, losing her father had been excruciatingly painful, a loss she felt still to this day. Florence, Fran, and Mary had taken her in. Her guardian angels. Surrogate aunts to Delilah, a found family. 

“Okay,” She agreed to leave, following a few paces behind Jefferson, who had also agreed to let the ladies take over. 

Jefferson stepped outside in the cool late-afternoon air and pulled his coat back on. As he was waiting for Delilah to come out, a black Cadillac pulled up to the curb and none other than Sidney Glass stepped out with a camera. Jefferson frowned. 

“Miss Mason.” She looked up to see Sidney Glass standing near Jefferson. “I’m glad I caught you!”

“Sidney,” Delilah greeted him, moving to stand next to Jefferson. She looked up briefly to the sky, the sun setting, causing her body to relax. 

“I was hoping I could get a picture of the town's favorite pastry chef for a feature I’ll be writing for Miner’s day.” He laid on the charm thick. “I’ve heard that your pies are set to bring in a lot of money for the event. I hope you’ve made enough.”

“More than enough!” Delilah smiled and looked at Jefferson. “Thanks to the help the patisserie received today.” 

Sidney's brows raised as his eyes traveled to Jefferson. “A donation?” He inquired. 

Jefferson rolled his eyes at Sidney’s assumption that it was a monetary donation.

Delilah laughed. “Labor.” She corrected Sidney. “Jefferson here helped make over three dozen pies today. The patisserie wouldn’t have been able to get that many done without his help.” It was the truth, as much as she loved her coworkers, they got distracted easily. Jefferson had worked hard, followed directions, and the flow between them had been peaceful and easy. Without him, Delilah would have probably ended up finishing after midnight and would end up sleeping on the couch in the front of the shop. 

Jefferson looked back to Delilah with a slight smile on his lips when she praised the work he had done. That was kind of her to say. He really wasn’t accustomed to praise at all. 

Sidney held up his camera. “Do you mind if I get a photo of you two?” He asked. “For the story?” 

Delilah looked at Jefferson, waiting to see what he’d say. Did he want his photograph taken? 

Jefferson was suspicious of Sidney wanting a picture. It was probably going to be used against him somehow in the future. He couldn’t trust this slime ball at all. Giving a martyred look to Delilah, he figured if it did come back to bite him in the ass later, at least he did enjoy himself in her company. “Fine,” he said, shaking his head. He did not smile for the camera. 

“So serious,” Delilah said in amusement after the picture was taken, seeing that Jefferson had not been smiling. He had a very nice smile, it was a shame that the town wouldn’t be able to see it in print.

After the picture was taken, Jefferson took Delilah’s hand to pull her along out of reach of Regina’s two-faced lackey. With his other hand, he patted Sidney’s shoulder causing the man to stumble back a step, a trace of flour dust remaining in the shape of a handprint on the suit jacket. “I’d like two copies of that if you don’t mind.” He continued walking past the reporter in hopes that they wouldn’t be pursued.

Delilah laughed as she looked over her shoulder, watching Sidney wipe off the flour handprint Jefferson had left on his suit. With her free hand, she covered her mouth, trying to muffle the sound. It wasn’t very nice to laugh at a person, but Delilah had found the entire exchange between Sidney and Jefferson hilarious.

Delilah smiled, looking down at their joined hands as they walked together. Had he just grabbed her hand to get her away from Sidney? It was clear he didn’t like the man. “Not a fan of the Daily Mirror?” Delilah asked, wondering why Jefferson had such a strong reaction to being in Sidney’s presence. “Or just Sidney in general?” She smiled, looking at Jefferson, trying to ignore the way her stomach fluttered when her eyes met his. 

The problem was the fact that Jefferson knew who Sidney Glass was. He had tainted everything Jefferson had ever read in  _ The Daily Mirror _ and he had read nearly every single issue. Being stuck in that house for years with only a biased newspaper to read to give him an idea of what was going on in town--and he knew Regina approved everything that would show up in print. He could recall the anguish he’d felt every time something negative would show up about one of the townsfolk. Yet never a letter out of place in reflection of Regina’s character, of course. The things he knew, but shouldn’t know, would never show up in the newspaper.

“Sorry,” he said to Delilah, looking over to her to notice she was smiling at him. He smiled back, unable to keep from doing so when she started it first. He looked ahead again as they walked along the sidewalk at a more leisurely pace now. “They probably can’t get anything wrong about baking for Miner’s Day. But somehow... I feel that Sidney Glass will mess it up anyway.” 

It was cold, and Delilah really regretted not bringing a change of clothes with her to work this morning, still wearing the outfit she used whenever she had a dance class to teach. The only thing keeping her warm was her winter coat, but her lack of pants had her kicking herself. It was too cold to dress this way in the winter. Thankfully they were nearing her car. “Do you need a ride?” She asked Jefferson. 

When she asked if he needed a ride, he pointed to the black convertible parked in front of Granny’s. “I’m parked over there.” He glanced at Delilah again and his eyes rolled downward as they walked to note her tights-clad legs and just a little of her skirt showing beneath the short coat. “Do you… not own any pants?” He grinned, trying not to laugh. 

Laughing, Delilah shook her head. “I own pants,” She told him. “The real question is; do you own any kind of shirt without patterns?” Delilah teased. “So posh.” She chuckled. Jefferson was a bit posh; first with the clothes and now that she saw the car he drove -- there was no mistaking it. He was definitely wealthy. 

Jefferson’s hand brushed absently at his front. He really had to put some thought into her question, though he knew she was joking back at him as he’d done. “Hmm… I don’t know.” He looked down at his shirt, or what he could see through the opening of his pea coat. Did she not like his clothes? “But, at least I have pants on,” he said in a teasing tone.

Looking up, David Nolan passed by, paying no attention whatsoever to the two walking hand in hand on the sidewalk. But his wife, Snow, did. Her eyes flew wide at what Jefferson said, but her  _ Prince Charming _ was ushering her forward chatting about something unimportant, Jefferson was sure. He noticed David wore plaid flannel in this land. There was no way Jefferson would be caught dead in flannel. Or plaid. He shook his head as his eyes followed them. David and his  _ very _ pregnant wife were heading into the diner. He hadn’t known they were expecting. Well, good for them. _ Eye roll.  _

Delilah moved to stand in front of her car, not anything special enough to brag about. A simple little Honda Accord that she had bought from the used car dealership in town. For being made in the 80’s, it ran fairly well. As she unlocked the front door, Delilah thought about what Jefferson had said about Sidney Glass. It seemed as though Jefferson had made quite a few foes while living in Storybrooke -- The Mayor, Sidney, who else? Did he have any friends? Or did he really spend all his time alone in his house in the woods? That last thought made her incredibly sad. She knew what it felt like to be alone, or, to feel alone. It wasn’t anything she wished on anyone else. 

“You  _ are  _ coming tomorrow, right?” She wanted to double check, hoping that Jefferson wouldn’t change his mind. “I’m expecting to see your face in the crowd...hidden in the back, of course.” Delilah added with a smile. 

“Yes, of course I’ll be there tomorrow,” he told Delilah. She hadn’t known him a day and she already knew he had planned on standing in the back, unseen. He sighed and shrugged. “I’ll uh… see about standing closer tomorrow.” 

Jefferson raised their linked hands and kissed the top of Delilah’s before letting go. “I had fun today. Thank you for including me.” He grinned as he walked backwards towards his own car. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The next day was Miner’s Day. Jefferson awoke actually happy. He knew his situation was no better than the day before or the countless other days during a curse, but he had something to look forward to. His daughter would be happy while on stage performing a ballet she had practiced and learned from her lovely, talented teacher. Jefferson was eager to see Delilah again, too. 

In his closet, he took the time to actually sort through what he had. Some of it he had made during the Dark Curse out of the many bolts of fabric that had been in the house when he got there. Since he couldn’t leave the house, he couldn’t exactly go shopping. He’d already known how to make clothing during his impoverished years, so why not make his own? Delilah had asked in jest if he had nothing without a pattern and he was starting to doubt if he did. Hangar after hanger, he slid across the bar. She was right. “Hmmm.” Well, now that he could actually leave the house, he would have to remedy the situation. He’d love to know what she thought of something more appropriate to this land they lived in. Maybe he would get to see her cheeks pinken again. He grinned as he left the house to see what the men’s clothing store in town had.

Two hours later, he’d had some shirts custom tailored to fit him just as he would have made them fit if he had taken the time to make them, but he was pleased with the result when he looked in the mirror. He hoped Delilah would be too. “I’ll wear this one out,” he told the tailor. It still had a pattern on the shirt and tie but the suit jacket and pants were what gentlemen wore in this land, the tailor assured him (even if a bit confused by the question). The collar on the shirt was just high enough to conceal his scar without the need for a scarf, too. 

Parking downtown was scarce, but he found something that his little Austin Healey convertible could fit in parallel parked. 

To his great dissatisfaction, he saw Regina in his path. She saw him, too, and Jefferson’s top was about to boil over despite his previous happiness he’d felt all day.

“Well, look who the cat dragged into town. What are you doing here?” the mayor snapped. 

Jefferson could barely restrain himself as he grabbed her by the arm. “How could you do this,  _ again!  _ After that show you made about fixing Pan’s curse?” He was fuming. This close to her, he could see that she was upset as well. Her impeccable make up was even smeared as if she had been crying. She was lucky he noticed that because he had promised a throttling next time he saw her. Henry. Maybe that was why…

Regina yanked her arm out of Jefferson’s grip. “Don’t you touch me! I should have you arrested!” she seethed.

“By who? You conveniently got rid of Emma.” Jefferson said cooly, crossing his arms to keep himself restrained.

“Not by choice!” She snapped, her voice hushed so as not to be overheard by all the people around them. “I lost Henry if you don’t recall.” Yes, that was the source of her distress. 

She could not seriously expect him to pity her after she caused him to lose Grace. He snorted through his nose. “Serves you right after you poisoned him,” Jefferson said as cooly as he could. He was there. He saw the boy laying in the hospital bed, unconscious.

“You had a hand in that, Jefferson, so don’t try to lecture me.”

He bit his tongue on that, but his fist balled into his sleeve. “I haven’t seen Rumple around. Have you? I need to speak to him.”

“No,” she scoffed, sounding disappointed. “And I’ve looked. He’s gone underground.”

“You don’t think he’s had a hand in this?” Jefferson asked.

“No, not his style. It’s someone else. Someone new, I think.” Regina looked off to the side as the dwarfs were busy running string lights last minute.

Someone new? Who the hell could it be? Jefferson hadn’t noticed anyone new and suspicious around. Just the same ole suspicious people.

“We’re missing  _ time, _ ” he said, enunciating the word. “A year as far as I can tell. And Snow White is expecting. She wasn’t the last time I saw her.”

“I noticed,” she said shortly. “I had nothing to do with any of this and I don’t know where Gold is or I would’ve been asking him for help already.” She looked Jefferson over briefly before meeting his eyes again, her impeccable eyebrow raising. “Are you going to ask Whale? You could get the boy band back together,” Regina said with false cheer and pain behind her eyes. 

Jefferson scoffed and shot an unamused look back at Regina. “This was a complete waste of time,” he grumbled.

“Indeed,” she said, righting her pants suit jacket. “Now if you’re done assaulting me, I have a town to run.” Her eyes challenged him to bother her again, and when he said nothing, she stomped off. 

Irritated and deflated from his prior good cheer, Jefferson wandered aimlessly for a while, lost in his own thoughts over who this new antagonist could be and where Rumplestiltskin had gone to, when he came to a grouping of metal folding chairs set up in the grass. He looked up and saw the stage there.  _ Oh.  _ This is where Grace and her group would be dancing. Turning around to look to see who was around and if Delilah was here yet, he saw Grace’s foster parents among several other possible parents coming towards him. Panic set in. He needed to get the hell out of here! Where could he stand out of the way?

A group of the mothers locked eyes with him, their voices raising a few octaves as they descended upon him. “OH! You’re the man in the newspaper article with Delilah! I read all about it this morning over breakfast! You two looked so cozy together. I told Samantha I was going to have to buy two pies!” 

_Who the hell is Samantha?!_ Jefferson wondered; the complete shock on his face had gone completely unnoticed by the women swarming him. Grace’s foster father gave him a look of condolences but went along too. The poor schmuck must be used to this sort of carrying on. 

“Come and sit with us!” another said. 

_ Oh fuck! _ With nowhere to flee, he was being ushered to sit in the first row, dead center. Like a deer in the headlights, Jefferson went along but said nothing as he was shoved down into one of the metal folding chairs.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Delilah started her day with a smile, waking up from an amazing night's sleep. She lay in bed, instead of thinking about all the things she’d need to do for Miner’s Day, she thought about how she had spent her previous day. Delilah bit down on her lower lip while smiling, her cheeks heating at the memory of how Jefferson had kissed the top of her hand before leaving her for the night. The man was incredibly charming, the chaste kiss to her hand leaving her feeling like she was floating. 

Finally getting out of bed, Delilah walked through her small home to get the morning paper that was waiting for her on her porch, a smile gracing her lips when she grabbed it and saw that the picture of her and Jefferson had made the front page. She laughed, seeing the serious expression Jefferson wore in the picture. Delilah wondered what he thought of being front page news, it was clear that the man kept to himself — would it upset him? She hoped not. 

Delilah walked back into her home with the paper in hand, she’d have to read the article when she came home tonight. She set the newspaper down on her kitchen counter and grabbed a piece of fruit to eat for breakfast. Looking out the window, she saw the sun beginning to rise. Mary had called her last night telling Delilah that she didn’t need to come in until 9AM, the three women wanting Delilah to get some sleep before the big day. It was odd, sleeping in. Normally Delilah woke up at 4AM to head to the patisserie. She looked at the clock, seeing it was barely 7AM. She frowned, not knowing what to do with herself. 

Perhaps she would read the article before getting ready. Delilah grabbed the paper and read what Sidney Glass had written about the Patisserie shop, smiling when she saw Jefferson’s name in print. Sidney had raved about the pies made, confessing that he had gotten to taste test one of them (something he had done after Delilah and Jefferson had left the patisserie) urging the townspeople to stop by their booth for Miner’s Day to buy some of their treats. Her eyes drifted back to the picture, smiling softly. 

It didn’t take long for her to get ready, Delilah wore yet again another one of her ballet outfits, this time remembering to bring a change of clothes with her. It wouldn’t just be her students performing today, she’d be leading them in the dance. 

As she left her home, Delilah looked up at the sky. A beautiful sunny day for Miner’s Day. Normally, that would cause her anxiety, the sun shining so brightly — but today felt different. The sun shining felt like a good omen, not anything bad. 

She made it to the Patisserie by 9AM, Florence, Fran, and Mary sitting on the couch in the front room, all of them holding the Daily Mirror in their hands. When they noticed Delilah walk into the building, all three ladies quickly stood up and made their way over to Delilah. “Did you see the paper?” “You two do make quite the attractive pair.” “Did you give him your number?” “I do hope so! He has to be the most eligible bachelor in Storybrooke.” “Will you two be spending more time together?” “Did he kiss you?” “Mary!” 

Delilah laughed, the three women practically bouncing while they waited for her to tell them what had happened between her and Jefferson. 

Before she could answer them, the door opened behind Delilah, causing her to look over her shoulder. A man dressed in a dark blue suit stood in the doorway. “Good morning,” he said with a smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.” 

“Of course not,” Fran told the man. 

Delilah looked at the man, something about his face seemed so familiar. She twisted the ring on her finger, trying to remember if she had ever come across him in town before. 

“I saw the article this morning in regards to your shop,” he said, his accent smooth like silk. “I was hoping to stop by early enough to buy a few pies.” He said, stepping forward. “Rumor has it that your pies will go fast.” He looked at Delilah, smiling softly at her. “I wanted to make sure I got one or two before they’re all bought.” 

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Fran said happily. 

“Any preferences?” Mary asked. 

“Hmmm.” The man tapped his chin. “Apple,” he said, “and my sweet tooth is telling me to get one of those chocolate pies Mr. Glass went on and on about.” 

“Oh! That’s our Delilah's favorite.” Fran said with a grin. 

The man turned his attention to Delilah. “Perhaps we can share,” he suggested, causing Delilah's brows to rise in surprise. 

She smiled politely. “That’s very kind of you…” 

“Derek.” He told Delilah his name. 

“Derek,” she said his name. Mary whispered something to Fran causing the woman to laugh. Delilah looked over at the two who continued to giggle. “I’ll go get them for you,” she said, not agreeing to his previous suggestion. Delilah went back to the kitchen to grab the pies for Derek. He thanked her once she brought them out to him. When he opened his mouth to speak again, Leroy walked through the doors, ready to bring the pies and other pastries out to the booth. 

“You better get going, sister,” Leroy told Delilah. “Your students are running all like chickens with their heads cut off.” 

Derek laughed loudly. “Wouldn’t want anyone to lose their heads now, would we?” He looked at Delilah. “What a nasty scar it’d leave.” 

Delilah simply nodded her head, not knowing why Derek found Leroy's words so funny. “I’ll see you three later,” Delilah told Florence, Fran and Mary. She smiled politely at Derek before walking past him only to feel him grab her hand. 

“Lovely ring you have,” he said, holding her hand up to examine the ring. “Moonstone,” Derek commented. “Clever,” he said under his breath. 

Delilah slowly took her hand back. “Thanks.” Yet another person who noticed her ring — why? “I do have to be going,” she told Derek. He nodded, smiling at Delilah. 

“Break a leg,” he said. “Or...whatever saying it is for dancers.” 

She smiled and left. 

Delilah felt a tightness building in her chest as she walked out of the patisserie. Pushing it down, the woman headed over to the stage, noticing some of the townspeople already seated in the metal chairs set up. She smiled when she saw Jefferson seated with some of the mothers, looking rather uncomfortable in the front row. Delilah pressed her lips together and kept from laughing. She then noticed his outfit, surprised to see him in a suit. So formal, and incredibly handsome. Her cheeks heated at that thought. 

“Miss Delilah!”

Delilah looked away from Jefferson and to Paige. “Are you ready?” She asked as Paige ran up to her. 

“I’m scared,” Paige said, grabbing Delilah's hand. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

Delilah briefly looked away from Paige and to where Jefferson sat. She frowned, turning back to Paige and crouched down to her level. Paige inhaled deeply, her nerves getting the best of her. “It’s okay to be afraid sometimes,” Delilah said softly, pressing her hand to the young girl's cheek and gently rubbing her thumb against it. “Everyone gets scared.” 

“Even you?” 

Delilah nodded. “But do you know what helps me?” Paige shook her head. “A lucky charm.” 

Paige frowned. “I don’t have a lucky charm.” 

Delilah smiled and unclamped the locket she wore around her neck and placed it on Paige. “Now you do.” 

Paige touched the heart locket, exhaling a bit. “Does it really help?” 

Delilah nodded her head. She leaned close to Paige. “Because it’s magic.” 

Paige smiled softly. “There’s no such thing as magic.” 

“Says who?” Delilah grinned. “If you believe in your heart that its magic, it’ll work.” Paige nodded, looking like she was feeling better. “Go on,” Delilah told her. “Get in line with the others. We’re starting soon.” 

  
  


* * *

Jefferson was trying to stay in his own head whilst squished between two very chatty women that spoke across him, possibly to him as the young girls ran willy-nilly all over the grass in front of the stage. It was complete chaos; he wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, just that he was stuck front and center in the middle of it all.

A voice shouted, ‘Miss Delilah!’ and Jefferson’s eyes shot up to the stage to see that she had arrived. “Um, pardon me.” He tried excusing himself, but the woman to his right put her hand on his forearm.

“Oh, it’s about to start. Which one’s yours?” she asked.

Jefferson’s eyes flared at her. 

“That was rude of me. I shouldn’t assume…” she started.

Jefferson sighed. “It’s fine.” He had said he would try to get closer to the stage and not hide in the back somewhere. Well, he was eating his words now.

Sitting back, somewhat defeated, Jefferson turned his focus back to the stage. The children were getting into some semblance of order now that their teacher was there. Delilah was wearing another of her dancing outfits--still pantsless, he chuckled in remembrance of their joking around the evening before--but looking even more beautiful today. Her hair was done as well. Was she actually performing, too? 

He crossed his arms, watching Delilah and Grace and succeeding in ignoring everything else around him.

Delilah was kneeling in front of Grace, speaking quietly to her. His daughter was worried; he could see it in the way her lips turned down, her shoulders raised slightly as she picked at her fingernails. Delilah’s hand cupped Grace’s cheek and Jefferson felt his breath catch in his chest. The tenderness she bestowed on his precious girl was much more than he expected. But why shouldn’t he have? He’d already witnessed how sweet Delilah was. 

“He’s gone.” A light chuckle to his side was mostly ignored as he kept his eyes on the stage, but he heard it. Were they talking about him? He didn’t care if they were.

Delilah put her own necklace on Grace and she smiled. The token seemed to help as Grace beamed back at Delilah before running to her place with the other girls. Jefferson looked back in complete awe and gratitude at Delilah. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Once the girls were in place on the stage, Delilah motioned to the older woman at the end of the stage to play the music. She looked back at her students one last time, eyes falling on Paige who was touching the heart locket. Delilah smiled, giving her a wink before straightening her shoulders, chin up and led the girls in the dance. 

Most of the girls watched Delilah during the dance, Paige however did not have to watch Delilah to keep up, following each move perfectly, never faltering, even on the most difficult parts. She truly was the perfect little ballerina. 

The audience erupted in cheers when the song and dance ended. Delilah looked to the girls who all bashfully looked to her, not knowing what to do next. She grinned at them, bowing slightly to the crowd. They mimicked her, bowing as well. Delilah laughed when her students ran up to her, engulfing her in a hug. 

“A special thanks to Delilah Mason and her students,” Mother Superior said as she walked on stage, smiling at Delilah and the girls. “Up next we have a song performed by…” Her voice trailed off to Delilah, not listening as she ushered the girls off the stage.

She looked at the crowd to where Jefferson was seated, only to be stopped by Ruby. 

The tall woman handed Delilah a bouquet of roses. “Some man in a suit told me to give you these,” Ruby told Delilah. She smiled, smelling the flowers. Delilah would have to thank Jefferson for the flowers. “The guy had the  _ hottest _ accent.” Ruby told Delilah, causing her to look away from the flowers. 

Accent?

Delilah frowned, realizing the flowers weren’t from Jefferson. 

A man with an accent... _ Derek? _

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Jefferson had been completely captivated as he watched Grace dance. She was focused and as far as he could tell, she was perfect because she was mimicking the same movements of Delilah. Of course she was perfect; always had been in his eyes. He was grinning and clapping, the first to stand as soon as the dance ended and in his peripheral vision, he saw the rest of the people around him standing to clap as well. 

He took a step away from his seat and noticed Ruby giving Delilah a bouquet of roses. Damn! He should have thought to give Grace flowers… but no. That would have been entirely inappropriate. Damn it! But at least Ruby had been very thoughtful to Delilah. They were from Ruby, weren’t they? Jefferson glanced to the side at a movement--surprising that he even noticed the movement since some people were still standing, some moving out of the way for other parents to come in and sit--and he saw a man he didn’t recognize leaning against a nearby light pole. His eyes were on the stage and the man was grinning, a toothpick being fondled by his tongue. 

Jefferson frowned briefly at the sight. Who was that? 

“Excuse me,” someone near Jefferson said, tugging at the sleeve of his blazer. “The next show is going to start so…” _Basically ‘sit or move it.’_ Jefferson dipped his head in apology and moved out of the way of the seats in the opposite direction of the toothpick-fondler so he could observe at a distance. Delilah was still surrounded by all of the little ballerinas so Jefferson did not approach, but found a place near the sidewalk and a leaf-barren tree to watch just as the soloist began to sing.

Regina had suspected someone new in town was the culprit and Jefferson was certain he’d never seen this man before. Impeccably dressed just as Jefferson was, his hair was styled better than most in town as well. The man looked classy. Certainly the type to send a woman flowers. Why the hell hadn’t Jefferson been so prepared? He noticed the spurt of jealousy shoot through himself and dropped his arms where he had crossed them over his chest. What right did he have to be jealous? He certainly had no ties to Delilah even if she had been so tender to his child and so sweet and teasing to him the day before. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Delilah was about to ask Ruby more about who had asked her to deliver the flowers, but was distracted by the sound of singing coming from the stage. 

“Go on to your parents,” Delilah told her students, who were oo-ing and aw-ing at the fact that Delilah had a secret admirer. She smiled, rolling her eyes and told them yet again to go sit down. 

Once it was just Delilah and Ruby, the tall woman grinned. “I saw your picture in the paper this morning. Figured if anyone would be getting you flowers, it’d be him.” She said, causing Delilah to follow her eyes to where Jefferson was standing. 

He looked bothered, and Delilah quickly looked back to Ruby. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said as a blush crept up her neck. 

“Sure.” Ruby smirked before leaving Delilah. 

The young woman turned her attention back to where Jefferson stood, lifting her hand up a bit to wave as she smiled softly at him. 

* * *

Jefferson’s attention moved away from that mysterious newcomer to Delilah as she raised a hand to wave at him. He moved away from the shadow of the tree and walked toward her. A slow smile spread on his face as he saw only her. “Thank you,” he said looking into her eyes. He noticed the blush on her cheeks and he wondered if it was from the exertion on the stage or the surprise of receiving flowers. “For what you did for Grace,” he added, touching his chest over his heart. How could he possibly say how much a little kindness given to his daughter would mean to him? 

“Of course,” Delilah smiled at Jefferson sweetly. What she had done for P- _Grace_ , she could see that it meant a lot to him. He truly loved his daughter and wanted what was best for her, that was clear. She had seen the way he applauded with enthusiasm after the performance had ended, eyes on his daughter — proud eyes, the eyes of a loving father. It caused her heart to ache that he didn’t have a relationship with his Grace, or, _couldn’t_ have one. “Every girl needs a lucky charm,” Delilah said, referencing the necklace she had let Grace wear. It was a necklace she had for as long as she could remember, always feeling sentimental when she looked at it. It was on a whim today that she had grabbed it from her jewelry box to wear. And now it was Grace’s. Something to keep her safe from her fears. _Protection_ , as Jefferson had said about her ring. 

Glancing up over Delilah’s shoulder, he saw the man standing back there watching. He didn’t like the way that man was looking at Delilah's back either. Jefferson’s eye twitched, but he tried to control his expression as he looked back to Delilah. 

“Should we go and see how the bake sale is going?” He slipped his arm around her waist to steer her out of sight of whoever he was. Maybe the guy would take a hint that Jefferson would protect her. 

When Jefferson swiftly wrapped his arm around her waist, Delilah had blinked in surprise. She looked down at the ground, trying to hide her smile as Jefferson suggested they check out the bake sale. She had completely forgotten about the bake sale for a moment. Delilah nodded her head in agreement. 

He looked down at the flowers she held. “From an adoring fan?” he asked, a slight smile touching his lips in order to hide the fact that it had made him feel jealous that he hadn’t been the one to give them to her. 

Delilah’s lips twitched up playfully. “Oh, I have so many adoring fans.” She joked, letting him lead her. Should she bring up the fact that it appeared she had a not so secret admirer? Delilah thought on it, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “They’re from a man who stopped by the bakery this morning,” she decided to tell him. “Apparently, this is his way of thanking me.” It could be that — even if the man had already paid for the pies. Flowers weren’t necessary, but appreciated. She looked up at Jefferson, wondering what he was thinking. 

He looked down at her face as she described what happened this morning. Not so much a secret then. She knew who the admirer was. Admiration wasn’t exactly the expression Jefferson had read on the face of the man against the lamp post. Maybe it was just the jealousy though. Just because he didn’t recognize the guy didn’t mean anything. He hadn’t known Delilah before yesterday, after all. 

She didn’t seem worried though as far as he could see. Maybe she was a bad judge of character. She was allowing _him_ to steer her around at Miner’s Day after all. If she had only heard the rumors about Jefferson during the first curse, she might not let him this close to her.

“That was a nice gesture,” he decided. “I’d probably throw them away though. Who knows if they have aphids in them.” He shrugged as he grinned at Delilah.

Delilah laughed loudly at Jefferson’s suggestion. Throw out the flowers? “But they’re so lovely.” She said bringing the roses closer to face so she could sniff them. “If I threw them away, I wouldn’t have something nice to display in my home.” Delilah wasn’t going to throw them out because she didn’t want to hurt Derek's feelings. The roses were beautiful, but if she were to be honest, roses left her with an uneasy feeling. The darkness of the red reminded her too much of blood. She preferred something brighter, colorful, something that popped. 

They walked over to the booth that Mary, Florence and Fran were working, the line long. “Do you ladies need some help?” She asked once they stood in front of the station. 

Mary looked up first, eyes wide as she took in Delilah and Jefferson, jabbing Florence in the side to grab her attention. 

“Ow! Would you stop—” She stopped suddenly and looked at Delilah and Jefferson. “Well, well,” Florence grinned. “If it isn’t the town's most famous duo.” She teased. 

Jefferson chuckled at the way Delilah’s co workers reacted when they saw the two of them together. He realized he liked them very much. They were fun and seemed to like him too which helped his ego, especially now. 

“Delilah, we saw the performance; it was so lovely!” Fran butted in before anyone could say anything. “And oh! How sweet!” She looked to the roses and then to Jefferson. “You bought her flowers.”

Delilah tried not to smile, looking down at the ground to keep from laughing. Poor Jefferson. 

He inhaled through his nose as he raised his chin, and gave a woeful look towards the flowers. “Alas, it wasn’t me.” There was a collective gasp from the ladies and Jefferson nodded and Delilah chuckled. “I know…” But really, the flowers weren’t even that special looking. Sure, there were probably two dozen of them, straight stems and not a petal out of place, but that was a little over the top, wasn’t it? The jealous monster struck him in the stomach again.

“And what do we have here?” he declared, perking up as he eyed the table’s contents as if he didn’t already know what was for sale. “I think I’ll buy a chocolate pie.” Delilah had said that they were her favorite thing. Maybe even moreso a favorite over some stupid flowers. 

He pulled out his wallet from inside his jacket and some cash to pay for it. 

When Jefferson ordered a chocolate pie, Delilah's brows rose while she smiled, “Excellent choice.” She commented, watching as Mary grabbed a box to place the pie inside. 

Delilah hadn’t taken one home with her like she had planned to do, something she regretted as soon as her stomach began to ache from hunger when she got home. 

“Delilah makes the best chocolate pies,” Mary told Jefferson as she took his cash before handing him the box. “They’ve been quite a hit today.” 

Jefferson nodded at Mary as she informed him about Delilah’s pies. “She’s the most talented woman I know.”

“Yes,” Fran agreed. “Oh!” She said suddenly, as if realization hit her. “It must’ve been Derek who gave you the flowers then!” She said to Delilah. “He was quite taken by you Delilah,” she said. 

“Roses are tacky,” Mary said only to be shushed by Florence. 

When the name Derek was dropped, he made a face as if he tasted something bad. What kind of name was Derek anyway? Mary’s remark about roses being tacky brought his already high opinion of Mary up tenfold. He smiled at her. “Indeed, they are,” he drawled as he reached out to take the bag with the pie box inside and turned his head to nod once at Delilah as if to say, ‘ _told you so_.’ 

Delilah shook her head, used to the three women’s antics. 

“Thank you lovely ladies very much and I hope you sell out.” He gave Mary a wink before turning his attention to Delilah.

“Do you want to sit down?” She pointed to the chairs and tables they set up for people to use. 

“Absolutely,” he said as he followed behind her to the tables. 

Before sitting, he glanced around to make sure this _Derek_ wasn’t still lurking around somewhere. He didn’t see him, so he set the pie bag on the table and sat. “They’re delightful, you know,” he told her, gesturing back at the bake sale table. “It’s nice you have them.” It was obvious even despite all the bickering that they adored her. Just like all the little ballerina students did. Just like how he was feeling as he looked back at Delilah. 

Since it was apparent that he might have to compete for Delilah’s attention, he looked down at the table, thinking over how or if he should invite her to dinner for that stew he had mentioned. Would she be interested? Maybe stew was too… primitive. It was one of his go-to things to cook when he hardly had anything else (but at least he had Grace then). 

Delilah smiled, sitting down at the table. “Oh they have their moments.” She referred to her coworkers. “But they’ve looked out for me for a while now. I wouldn’t have been able to open up the ballet studio without their help.” She confessed. “And they wouldn’t be able to run the patisserie without mine,” Delilah added with a smirk. Bless their hearts, but those ladies did not know how to bake before Delilah came around. 

Delilah folded her hands together and placed them under her chin, looking to Jefferson and then to the pie. “I hope you intend to share.” She smiled while sitting across from him. 

There she was again, looking at him in a certain way that he hadn’t quite figured out yet, that reminded him of something familiar. Her chin propped on her hands as she looked between him and the pie, smiling again--and he couldn’t stop the answering grin on his face as he chuckled and looked down at the bag with the pie in it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled this much. Scratching his jaw, briefly contemplating over that, he reached out and flipped the bag open. 

“Let’s see if they gave us any utensils.” Of course, there was one fork and one knife in a plastic wrapper. Had they all been too distracted to put in two sets? He picked it up and considered it. “Well,” he drawled as he ticked the utensil bag side to side a few times like a metronome, “I bought the pie for you, but after _all_ that praise over how you make the _best_ pies…” He sighed as he considered Delilah, then the pie--because two could play at this game--“I don’t know…” He looked back up at Delilah fighting a smirk.

It was nice spending time with Jefferson. She truly enjoyed his company. Even if he did make her blush with every other sentence. It was embarrassing, really. How easily flustered she was by the man. Delilah had never been one to swoon over a man. She prided herself on her independence, how she never relied on a man for happiness— a workaholic, she often called herself—and far too busy to ever fawn over a man. 

Yet here she was. Unashamedly flirting with a handsome man. 

“Hmmm,” Delilah let out a dramatic sigh. “Whatever shall you do?” She said, unable to stop herself from chuckling. He was toying with her, and she’d gladly let him continue. “Two people and _one_ fork.” Delilah whistled. “I think we have ourselves a conundrum here.” She played along. “Because you’re right; my pies _are_ the best. The best you’ll probably ever have.” She talked up the pie. “But with only one fork…” She grinned. Delilah didn’t mind sharing the fork, not much of a germaphobe. 

Jefferson had bought the pie for _her_. He remembered it was her favorite and bought it knowing it’d make her happy. She bit down on her lower lip while smiling, her stomach fluttering at his kindness. 

“How about we share today,” Delilah suggested. “And I make another chocolate pie to bring over when you make me that famous stew of yours?” 

_The best you’ll probably ever have._ Didn’t he say that in jest to her yesterday about his stew?

Jefferson grinned broadly and his eyes followed down to her mouth as she bit her lip. His tongue traced his own lip before looking down at the pie. He sighed, shaking his head. “I guess you win.” 

_Or maybe they both do._ Maybe he doesn’t have to feel a trace of embarrassment at something simple like stew compared to a beautifully made pie, even if he thought it was damn good stew. She’s offering to ‘come over’ out into the woods like it’s not been said that the house out in the woods is the madman’s house. She doesn’t know about that, he guessed, but maybe all of that nonsense was in the past, left behind in the previous curse. He could only hope she never heard about that.

He tapped the utensil package twice on the table which broke the plastic seal on top as the knife and fork tines poked through. “Ladies first.” 

Delilah smiled happily as she took the fork from Jefferson, watching as he opened the box. The pie looked beautiful and smelled heavenly. She had debated adding a thin layer of whipped cream with chocolate shavings to the pie while making them but decided against it. Maybe she’d do that for the pie she planned to bring Jefferson — if he still wanted to make stew for her. He seemed to be contemplating what she had said, or, how she had invited herself over to his home. She blushed, taking a bite of the pie. It was presumptuous to assume Jefferson still wanted to cook for her. 

Maybe it was the pie that made her blush, but Jefferson still thought the color in her cheeks was lovely. Things that made her happy, perhaps, did that to her. He hoped the stew he would make for her did the same.

There were times in the past when he’d asked women to dinner and had no qualms over it. He hadn’t really, truly cared for those women. He just wanted to gain something from them--from a short tryst to some treasure he was hired to fetch for an employer. Those times were mostly forgettable. Until he met Priscilla. That had meant something and left a mark in his heart. The feisty woman had actually _told_ him to go to dinner with her. Kind of like how Delilah had _told_ him to go bake with her. He smiled, remembering. 

But Delilah was different. She felt different. More breakable and one to handle with care. He was almost positive she was who he thought she was. He could remember the feeling of extreme sorrow depicted in the paintings in that long ago castle even if he couldn’t quite remember the details of the face of the woman. And the fact that she wore the ring of protection he had stolen from that castle; it had to be her. Maybe. 

He had been too young at the time to give too much thought to that cursed woman back then, but now, meeting her and getting to know her, he had regrets. If she knew he had known so many years ago but did nothing, would she turn her back on him?

While passing the fork to Jefferson, Delilah saw from over his shoulder that the man from early was coming over to their table. _Derek._ Delilah smiled politely as Derek stood behind Jefferson. He smiled down at her, eyes moving from her to the roses and then back to her. 

Jefferson had taken the fork, his fingers brushing against hers, and dipped the tines into the chocolate to scoop out his own first bite. He hadn’t tried that one yet having only tried the pain au chocolat before.

But before he raised the fork, he noticed that Delilah was standing looking at something behind Jefferson. The crunch of the winter-dormant grass behind him signalled the arrival of someone practically right on Jefferson’s back. He frowned, glancing over his shoulder.

“Ms. Mason,” the man said in a formal tone. “I hope you are a lover of roses.” Derek said, sounding almost bashful in that moment. “I confess, I struggled trying to find the perfect flower to give you.” 

It was that creep with the toothpick, Jefferson saw. The man had an accent and was speaking politely to Delilah at least. Maybe not a creep. Jefferson did tend to judge people negatively at first glance, after all. A lover of roses? _Roses are tacky,_ Mary had said and Jefferson’s lips twitched in remembrance. His eyes shifted imperceptibly toward the bake sale table to see her scowling fiercely in their direction, and Jefferson’s lips did turn up then. 

His expression shifted to one of inquiry as his head rocked back slightly to look at the imposing man speaking to Delilah. He set his elbow on the table and his other arm’s fist balled on his hip as he watched this scene with incredulity.

Delilah sat there, unsure of what to say. “They are beautiful,” she finally decided. “Thank you, Derek. I appreciate the roses...” She wanted to tell him that even though she did appreciate the gift, that she was clearly in the middle of a conversation. “You really shouldn’t have.” 

_No_ , Jefferson agreed silently with Delilah. The man _shouldn’t_ have bought her the roses. Who the hell did he think Jefferson was anyway? Her brother? He’s the one sitting at the table with her. Didn’t they know in the UK that it was impolite to interrupt a couple of people sitting to eat? Not that they were a couple, per se, but they were two people trying to enjoy some time together, for fuck’s sake. 

He could feel his irritation rising as his neck flushed. The man may not be a creep as Jefferson had first assumed, but he was intruding. 

“I was hoping that the flowers would make you smile.” He told her. “It’s such a lovely smile.” 

Delilah took in a deep breath, smiling politely at the compliment. 

Derek then looked down at Jefferson. “We haven’t met.” He held out his hand for Jefferson to grab. “I’m Derek.” 

A hand was stuck out in offer to shake Jefferson’s and Jefferson rolled his eyes down to look at the hand for a brief moment. Instead of taking it sitting down, he figured he had sat long enough. “Pardon me,” he said with some exaggeration, and stood from the chair, not minding if the chair leg struck the man’s impeccable designer loafers. Everything about the way this man was dressed said _money._ Jefferson would know, after all.

Looking _Derek_ \--still a dumb name--in the eyes, he saw to his disappointment that the man had maybe an inch in height over him. _Damn._ Maybe it was just the grass making it seem so.

“Jefferson,” he told him with an expectant eyebrow raised. No, he was not going to shake his hand and what was Derek going to do about it? 

Derek's brows rose as Jefferson said his name. “Ah, yes. The man who lives out in the woods.” His words drawled. “As beautiful as these Maine woods are, I find myself more comfortable closer to town. Closer to,” his eyes briefly shifted towards Delilah, “the town's attractions.” He looked back at Jefferson. “Such a lovely little town.” 

Jefferson would have to be completely daft not to catch Derek’s meaning. “Agreed. She is,” he said shortly.

Delilah watched the exchange, eyes focusing on Jefferson to make sure he wasn’t too upset. But why should he be? They had only known each other for a day and a half. Jefferson had brought up making her stew but that was it — maybe he was only interested in her as a friend. The thought caused Delilah to frown slightly. She didn’t have a problem with being Jefferson’s friend, but she felt a deep connection to him that was unexplainable. 

Maybe it was because he shared his secret with her? That Paige Grace was his daughter — maybe it was nice to feel as though someone trusted her enough to share such a life altering secret. Trusted her enough to keep said secret. Maybe that was why she felt connected to him. 

“Delilah,” Derek said, breaking her away from her thoughts. “I don’t mean to be forward.” He walked over to when she stood. “I would love to have dinner with you tonight.” 

She blinked in surprise. “Dinner?” Delilah was speechless as Derek smiled at her. She looked into his eyes, long and hard. There was something about this man that felt so familiar. Maybe if she looked into his eyes long enough, she’d remember…

Jefferson stood there, frozen to the spot as Derek beat him to asking Delilah to dinner. _Damn!_ She would say no, wouldn’t she? He watched Delilah as impassively as he possibly could force his facial expression to be. He didn’t want her to see that he was boiling with jealousy. Jefferson only watched her to see how she would react. She didn’t even look at Jefferson when Derek referenced him. She kept her eyes on this interloper. Jefferson slowly turned his face to look at Derek. _Why?_ He wanted to ask why this man was doing this? Or were the Fates still not done fucking with Jefferson’s life? Oh. Maybe he wasn’t done being punished for all the bad things he had done in his life. This wasn’t hell, it was purgatory.

Jealous or not, he knew he had no right to feel this way. It was completely unfounded. Why was he being so possessive over Delilah? Was it that missing year that he suspected she had somehow gotten that ring from him? He couldn’t know and might never since he couldn’t remember it. 

“Unless,” Derek looked to Jefferson. “You’ve already made plans for the night with your friend here.” Delilah couldn’t look away from Derek. Still trying to figure him out. Derek turned back to face Delilah, giving her a hopeful smile. 

Shit. 

How was she supposed to refuse him when he was looking at her with such hope in his eyes. Delilah twisted the ring on her finger, feeling anxious. 

Jefferson was going to deny having taken up any future plans with Delilah which should relieve her since she was so fixated on Derek. But then he noticed something in particular as he observed Delilah. She was _not_ blushing now. That gave him a small spark of hope that he was wrong. Hmm. Maybe Derek didn’t make her happy. She seemed to blush a lot in Jefferson’s company anyway…

And then his savior came to the rescue in the form of the feistier of Delilah’s coworkers. “She’s busy,” a voice said suddenly. Blessed Mary! Jefferson would have to thank her later. 

Delilah looked to see Mary had joined them. “You promised to help Leroy and his men with clean up.” Mary lied. The woman looked to Jefferson. “You volunteered as well, right?” 

“Of course I did,” he said smiling fondly at her and turning his eyes toward Delilah with a faint grin. 

“It’s going to take all evening, so,” Jefferson shrugged with a side-eye at Derek with a look that said _tough luck, you smooth talking bastard. Now fuck off._

Delilah looked to Jefferson as he spoke, a soft, grateful smile graced her lips. It wasn’t that Derek was some hideous creep; he was handsome, sophisticated, likely intelligent, and eager to dote on her, it seemed — Delilah just didn’t want to go on a date with him. Was that because of Jefferson and her growing attraction to the man? Likely. Yet there was something else that told Delilah that going on a date with Derek was an awful idea. 

“Another time then.” Derek said, causing Delilah to look away from Jefferson. Delilah didn’t agree, she simply pressed her lips together in a smile. Hoping that Derek would get over his infatuation with her soon and that she’d never have to go out to dinner with him. When Derek leaned in and kissed her cheek, Delilah felt her breath catch in her throat, surprise written on her face. “I’ll see you around, darling.” He whispered in her ear. 

Delilah took a step back, still stunned by Derek's forwardness. When Jefferson had kissed her hand, it left her feeling weightless, yet when Derek had kissed her, she felt a pressure building in her chest that she couldn’t explain. 

Jefferson was staring, once again frozen to the spot, as Derek took advantage of Delilah’s silence and kissed her cheek. He felt the knife sink into his guts and the foreign feeling of such utter jealous rage confused him. Jefferson didn’t hear what Derek said in Delilah’s ear though there was a murmur of something. Something enough to cause Delilah to step back. Jefferson’s fists clenched at his sides, but otherwise he remained immobile.

Mary cleared her throat, causing Derek to chuckle before he left them. Delilah smiled at Mary, thanking the woman from saving her from having to turn down the man. 

After Mary had cleared her throat, thus breaking the spell Jefferson had felt come over himself and he looked down at the little woman as Delilah thanked her, and watched her leave. He turned, feeling sluggish in the after effects and simply looked at Delilah sitting again. Had that really happened? Why had it happened? Why was this affecting him so?

Delilah sighed, sitting back down at the table. She wondered what Jefferson thought of what had just happened. “You didn’t actually sign up to clean up tonight, did you?” She asked, eyes playfully narrowing at him. When Mary had said the lie, Delilah thought for a moment that she actually _had_ volunteered to clean up. But from her recollection, she had made no such promise. And something told her that Jefferson hadn’t as well. 

Taking care not to seem as flabbergasted as he was, he carefully pulled his chair back into place and sat. He wiped at the edge of his jaw, his eyes wide as he blinked at the pie. They were supposed to be eating chocolate pie and enjoying themselves and he’d be further damned if he didn’t carry on as normal.

“I suppose I just did.” He answered her question about clean up as he reached for the fork that had been dropped on the table. “Now where were we?” He scooped up a good helping of the pie in hopes that the sweet fortitude would do him some good at a time like this and took a bite. For a moment he closed his eyes, nodding as he chewed. The taste was out of this world. Opening his eyes he offered the fork back to Delilah. “Delicious.”

Leaning back in his chair, he kept his eyes on Delilah, the scene with Derek kissing her cheek still burnt behind his eyelids every time he blinked. “Why didn’t you agree to dinner with him?” He was curious. Maybe he didn’t have a right to ask, but weren’t they friends now, at least? He should be able to inquire over it. 

She blinked, surprised by Jefferson’s question. He was asking her why she hadn’t agreed to dinner with Derek and she found her lips forming in an ‘o’ shape as her brows raised — did Jefferson think she should have taken Derek up on his offer? Was this connection she felt between them something she had imagined, or, worse, one-sided? Perhaps Jefferson has just been being kind to her? A friend. Delilah quickly looked down at the pie, fork piercing the chocolate. But she didn’t scoop up a bite, instead she listened as Jefferson continued on. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” he added hurriedly. “I would’ve… I dunno, shoved him onto his ass for that kiss had he tried that on _me_ .” He raised his eyebrow with a slight grin. “But then again, _I_ don’t like him. He’s about as charming as a snake.” Maybe he was insinuating that she did like Derek. His damned roses were on the table with Jefferson’s pie and in a way it looked like Delilah had two options on the table before her. 

Her lips twitched up a bit, finding his words humorous. But she still felt a sadness over thinking that perhaps Jefferson thought she should have said yes to Derek. 

“Charming as a snake?” Delilah repeated, looking up at Jefferson through her lashes. He said _he_ didn't like him — did he think that _she_ did? Delilah finally took a bite of the pie, thankful that she couldn’t talk with her mouth full of chocolate cream. Perhaps she hadn’t made it obvious enough that the person she was interested in was definitely _not_ Derek. 

Handing the fork back over to Jefferson, Delilah swallowed her bite. “I,” she started to say but stopped. What was the appropriate answer to Jefferson’s question. How could she tell him that she didn’t say yes to Derek without embarrassing herself by admitting that she felt something towards _him_? “Should I have said yes?” Delilah finally decided on saying. 

Maybe he was a little selfish when, instead of taking the fork from her, Jefferson wrapped his fingers around her hand to settle his over hers on the table top. “I’m glad you didn’t.” He said this earnestly while hoping that he wasn’t crossing a line. “I don’t like the guy,” he repeated. He had seen the way the man had been looking at her and it made him more than uneasy. 

What if Jefferson was being so forward with Deilah? If he had kissed her cheek? Well, maybe he should. But anything he did now would be overshadowed by the fact that Derek had kissed her first. 

Once again, Delilah felt her cheeks heat upon hearing Jefferson’s answer. He was glad she hadn’t agreed to go to dinner with Derek. _I don’t like the guy,_ yes that much was clear. Delilah licked her lips as she smiled. 

Frowning, he drew his hand back, slipping the fork from her fingers as he retreated. Tilting his head, he pursed his lips to the side before glancing back to Delilah. Unfortunately, he felt like the light and easy atmosphere they had between them before Derek had butted in was gone. For now. 

Delilah inhaled slowly through her nose, a fluttering had erupted in her stomach when Jefferson had taken her hand, and now that she could no longer feel his touch, Delilah had to stop herself from reaching across the table to hold his hand again. Even going as far as to fold her hands and place them in her lap. 

“Do you want to dance? Or get a drink?” He raised a shoulder, not minding which she’d prefer, if at all. “Miner’s Day is a hamlet-wide party, after all.” 

The small courtyard of Granny’s had been cleared of tables so that a guitarist could sing into a mic. People could dance under the string lights or have a beer and lean against a post just to enjoy the music. It had been going on an hour earlier when Jefferson had first parked his car. There weren’t many people lingering there either and he hoped it would still be like that. If she was interested in doing that with him.

Delilah grinned. She would have never pegged him for a dancer. _Grace_ was a dancer — should it really surprise Delilah that her father enjoyed dancing as well? She stood up from her seat and nodded her head. “I’ll take a dance,” she said, holding out her hand for Jefferson to take. 

She could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she waited for Jefferson to stand. It had been so long since Delilah had a dancing partner. Even as skilled as she was at the art, Delilah worried she’d step on his toes. 

Jefferson grinned at Delilah’s choice of dancing, and how she had stood immediately at the idea with her hand out to him. He stood, too, slipping his hand into hers and holding it close as he looked into her eyes. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to save this for later.” He turned slightly just so that he could push the box lid shut and grab the bag handle to lift the pie off the table to take with them. He hoped there would be a later. The prospect was looking better.

As they passed by the bake sale table, Jefferson glanced to the side to see Delilah’s delightful co workers waving as they walked away. “They like me,” he said, not even caring if he was boasting about it. It wasn’t too often that he saw approval looking back in someone else's eyes and it felt good. 

_They like me,_ Jefferson had commented. Delilah closed her eyes for a moment while smiling, it was true. Mary especially seemed to be a fan of Jefferson’s. “You sound surprised,” Delilah said as she let Jefferson lead the way. Was it really such a stretch that someone might like Jefferson? Enjoy his company? That his mere presence could bring comfort to a person. That person being Delilah, of course. But she could see just how much Mary seemed to like the man as well. Especially when she not too subtly gave them a thumbs up while they walked by. Delilah hoped Jefferson hadn’t seen that, she’d be as red as a tomato if he had. 

Granny’s wasn’t too far away, just far enough away that the music from the stage wouldn’t clash with the acoustic music drifting softly from the courtyard. The guitarist and a soloist were there, a man and a woman. Jefferson wasn’t exactly well-versed in this land’s music aside from classical instrumentals that he would play in his house, but this atmosphere seemed intimate enough that he didn’t really mind that there was another couple already swaying gently arm and arm in the courtyard. Otherwise, there was no one else.

Jefferson set the pie on the cement wall ledge and turned to Delilah. 

The woman had been singing, her voice light like a bell as the man strummed, but the man stood and began singing as well next to her. _“You’re like a mirror, reflecting me.” “Takes one to know one, take it from me.” “You’ve been lonely… too long.”_

He wasn’t exactly listening, his entire focus was on Delilah and how the randomly strung lights cast a glittering reflection illuminating her skin. Looking down, he realized she was still just wearing the outfit she wore while dancing. He laughed, dipping his head before glancing back at her through his eyelashes. “Are you cold?” He began unbuttoning his blazer, to take it off to fit over her shoulders. And then he would hold his hand out to her.

Delilah didn’t understand his question — cold? Oh! She closed her eyes in embarrassment, realizing she once again was only in her ballet clothing. “I swear I own pants,” Delilah said, opening her eyes just as Jefferson placed his jacket around her shoulders. She smiled, letting her arms slip into the blazer. Delilah inhaled deeply before taking Jefferson’s hand, stepping into his space.

Jefferson just chuckled quietly when Delilah insisted she owned pants. He didn’t really care if she wore this every time he saw her, just that he could see her again after this day. It was so infrequent that he did actually get to be in anyone’s company that the underlying fear that everything would again and again be taken away from him, caused him to hold back a small part of really enjoying this. It would be taken away too, like everything else. That was his curse.

He closed his eyes as Delilah stepped into his embrace, his chin down and cheek against the side of her head, glad that she wasn’t timid near him and that she didn’t mind being close. His arm slipped into the jacket and his hand traced along the silken fabric of her leotard covering her hip and to her lower back to embrace her closer. She moved on her own volition until her head rested on his chest. His other arm on the outside of the jacket across her shoulder blades. 

Jefferson smelled like nature, a woodsy scent that had Delilah moving closer to his body. It shouldn’t be surprising that Jefferson smelled like the woods, given that the man lived out in the deep woods of Storybrooke. There was a fresh, crispness about it that brought Delilah comfort, a feeling of peace settling in her heart. There was also a hint of something else she couldn’t quite decipher...tea? Fresh brewed tea! It caused her to smile as her hand moved to rest on his shoulder. 

Delilah paid no attention to the couple dancing in the same area, instead listening to the music as she moved in a sway to begin their dance. 

_Let me in the wall, you've built around_

_And we can light a match and burn it down_

_Let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flame_

_In front of us_

_Dust to Dust_

  
  


It was a beautiful song, the gentle strum of the guitar accompanied by the duos vocals had Delilah smiling softly. She leaned in closer, letting her head rest against Jefferson’s chest. In that moment, dancing under the lights, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Delilah closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling. Content. She felt so perfectly content in this moment that she prayed nothing would ruin it. 

_You've been lonely, too long_

Taking a steadying breath through his nose, he tried not to focus on the fact that Delilah was pressed against him from top to thigh. Instead of focusing solely on Delilah, so warm and pliable in his arms as if they fit well together, he tried to focus on the singing. _You’ve been lonely too long_ , the soloist sang. It was too true. 

His attention couldn’t stray far. Delilah smelled good too, like the sweetness of the desserts she surrounded herself with. His nose turned slightly towards her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut if just to hold this moment in as they slowly turned to the music.

The song ended, but Delilah stayed in Jefferson’s arms, still moving slowly. It didn’t matter to her that the music was no longer playing, she let him continue to hold her. A part of her didn’t want him to let go, a happiness filling her that she hadn’t felt in so long. Selfishly, she wanted to hold onto that feeling as tightly as possible and never let it go. Delilah sighed happily, lost in this little world that was just the two of them. She hadn’t even felt the pair of eyes on her that glared angrily. 

  
  


* * *

Rothbart watched as Odette danced with the Mad Hatter. His blood boiling at the sight. The damned fool was yet again in the way of Rothbart winning Odette's heart. He had thought that by taking on Derek's identity, the woman would fall for him as easily as she had that prat of a prince. So hopelessly in love with him she had been. When Rothbart had crushed Derek’s heart, he had thought that would be the end of it. That Odette would give up and surrender to him. Together they’d rule her kingdom and he would finally have the power he deserved. 

And then she had _left_ him. It didn’t matter to her that she would remain a swan for the rest of her life, nothing mattered without Derek, Odette left the safety of the lake and when Rothbart finally found her, she was human. A ring on her finger that kept her curse at bay. He had been livid. Even more so when he realized that Odette was keeping company with the Mad Hatter. 

The ring didn’t only protect her from turning into a swan during the day, but it was enchanted so that only the wearer could take it off. Odette had beat him, and worse, fallen for someone new. He had lost his power over her _and_ his chance at winning her heart. 

That’s when he knew what he had to do. 

Create a curse just as the Evil Queen had. Give Odette a new identity: _Delilah._ Magic wouldn’t let him make her love him, but in a new world where she had no memory of who he truly was; he had a fighting chance. He watched from afar, studying her every move. He knew her daily schedule, her nightly routine. Rothbart knew all there was to know about _Delilah_ in order to woo her. And then _he_ came into town. 

Jefferson. The Mad Hatter. Damn the man! He should have crushed his heart when he had the chance. 

Rothbart needed to do something drastic to get Delilah's attention. Something that would make her view him as a hero. He smirked, an idea popping in his head. 


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The next morning was just as glorious as the one before, Jefferson thought and he laughed to himself in the quiet of his home.  _ Glorious.  _ He couldn’t recall the last time he’d even used the word to describe a feeling involving his situation. He barely noticed the quiet aside from the feeling of peace. Who the hell cared if he was by himself in the house when he would soon have company? After he would return to the house with the ingredients for the stew he would cook for Delilah, it wouldn’t be long until she would arrive thereafter to spend the late afternoon and evening with him for dinner. The grin remained on his face as he went about getting ready to leave.

After they had danced, they had to eat something quick--greasy, carnival style burgers--so they could obligingly go about helping with clean up as promised. Jefferson had regretted the fact that he didn’t own a tee because working in a fitted, collared shirt was stifling even in the cold, crisp night air. But it would have to do. He wouldn’t leave Delilah’s sight while they had the time together. Finally, late in the night, the dwarves declared the work done and everyone was to ‘get out of here and go home’ by the snappy and grumpiest dwarf. Jefferson couldn’t begrudge the man. It was thanks to him needing volunteers that Jefferson had gotten a couple more hours with Delilah. 

Jefferson had parted with Delilah at her car, being sure she took the remainder of her chocolate pie home with her--he had bought it for her, after all--and with a request that she come to his house the next day for the promised stew, ‘the best you’ll ever have,’ he reminded her with a grin. He had given her a slip of paper with the address written on it as if she would even need it. “ _ You can’t miss it. It’s the last road before the town sign and the only house there.” _

And then he had kissed her cheek, his hand lingering along her hip before stepping back. Only after he was driving back home did he recall that Derek had still kissed her cheek first. That bastard.

But today, he wasn’t bothered anymore. Dancing with Delilah had been next to any idea of heaven he could conceive. Maybe they would get a chance to dance again today. 

It was seven in the morning. Jefferson had always risen with the sun even when in the Enchanted Forest and found that the routine hadn’t changed in all the years he’d been in Storybrooke. He’d always been able to peek in the telescope and see Grace eating her breakfast, satisfied that she was being well nourished and taken care of. On this day, he did the same, taking a look. Grace was eating fruit and smiling happily as she chatted to someone unseen in the kitchen. 

Smiling, he nodded and stood from how he leaned over the eyepiece. When he took a step away, his arm uncharacteristically bumped the telescope, upsetting the careful placement towards the home in which Grace lived. “Damn,” he whispered, and stepped back to put it back in place. But as he peered through the lens again, he saw something that sent his heart rate into a gallop.  _ Fire!  _

He gasped, turning the dials to focus the lens better so he could see where it was. His eyes flared wide open, before closing one to look twice. “No!” He ran; his feet may not even have touched the stairs as he fled the house and to his car. His focus was entirely on the destination.

\---

Delilah started her morning in a cheerful mood, the day before still replaying in her mind. She had a wonderful time spending the day with Jefferson, the mere thought of it bringing a smile to her face as she walked to the dance studio. It was a beautiful morning, birds chirping in the trees as she walked under them. Normally, a day like this would cause her to panic, but today Delilah dressed in her favorite outfit, not bothering to try and cover any exposed skin that the sun might shine on. She hummed a tune she had heard on the radio and walked down the streets of Storybrooke, deciding that today that instead of taking her car, she’d walk to work.

There wasn’t much she needed to do. She needed to check and see if there were any messages left on the studio’s answering machine, clean the mirrors, and mop the floors. No paperwork, just regular chores. Florence had given her the day off from the patisserie, telling Delilah that she worked too much and deserved a day off. Delilah reminded Florence that technically  _ yesterday _ had been her day off.  _ “Then you deserve two days off!”  _ Florence said, not letting Delilah say no. Mary had gotten on the phone next asking Delilah how her date with Jefferson had ended.

It wasn’t a date...was it? He had kissed her cheek before she got into her car at the end of the night and Delilah had  _ wondered  _ if maybe it had been. They danced, ate, and chatted all evening while helping Leroy and his crew clean up everything — did that qualify as a date? 

_ Tonight.  _ Perhaps  _ tonight _ was their first date. She was going over to Jefferson’s home in a few hours to spend the day with him and then eat his infamous stew later in the evening. The thought of being alone with Jefferson caused her skin to flush and her smile to grow. If this was a date...Oh!! She was being ridiculous! Acting like some love-struck school girl who had never been alone with a man. 

Delilah pulled out her keys from her jacket pocket and unlocked the studio once she got to the building, not bothering to lock the door behind her. Tossing her jacket on the coat rack, Delilah headed to the back room to listen to any messages she might have missed from yesterday. 

After listening to the messages, the woman opened the door to the basement where she kept the cleaning supplies. Delilah turned on the light, a spark coming from the bulb as it flickered on. She frowned, it was near time for Leroy to come to the studio to make some repairs and go over the electrical system. Delilah shook her head in frustration. It had been a slow month at the studio, and after making a donation to the convent, Delilah only had enough to pay her rent. She definitely didn’t have enough to pay Leroy to fix up a few things. 

Delilah walked down the stairs, pushing away her thoughts. Today was a  **good** day. She refused to let anything get her down. Grabbing the cleaning supplies, Delilah headed back up the stairs, frowning when she saw that the door was closed. She turned the knob, struggling to twist it open. She cursed under her breath, not able to open the door. 

“Hello?” She called out, hoping someone might hear her. How the hell did she lock herself in the basement? Delilah was just about to holler again when a smell invaded her nostrils. 

_ Smoke.  _

She looked down at the ground, watching as smoke seeped through from under the door. Delilah tried to open the door again with no luck. “Hello?” She banged on the door, panic filling her. “Somebody!” Delilah yelled, the smell of smoke overwhelming. The room was filling with it fast and Delilah could hardly breathe. “Help!” She screamed. “Somebody! Please!” 

Delilah coughed, throat burning from inhaling too much of the smoke. She held her breath, still banging on the door. A feeling of lightheadedness overtook her, Delilah feeling faint. She coughed a few more times, slowly falling to her knees while she now weakly hit her hand against the door. 

_ Please, _ she prayed.  _ Someone find me. _

The door was kicked open just as her eyes closed, the last thing she saw was flames.  _ Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got you.  _

  
\---

The trees were a blur as Jefferson sped much faster than was actually safe to do so. Thank goodness he had a low profile car with a fast engine. It took to the curves in the road easily, the engine roaring in his ears.  _ Delilah. Not Delilah!  _ Maybe she wasn’t even there. She had told him she works at four in the damn morning at the patisserie after all! She wouldn’t be at the dance studio.  _ Please _ , he thought, not sure if it was a prayer or just a silent demand that he was right. But Grace would be so disappointed too. But at least he knew for a fact that Grace wasn’t at the studio.  _ Not Delilah _ .  _ Please. _

The little Austin Healy convertible shot through a red light, horns blaring and tires screeching behind him. He didn’t care. The flames were sky-high and he could see them from two blocks away. His stomach was in the floorboards of the car as he whipped around the last corner only to have to slam on the breaks before he flipped this car too. 

He was out like a rocket, abandoning the car on a sidewalk as he ran full on towards the caution-taped intersection, barrelling past a few other early-morning bystanders. The fire department was already there spraying the flames. And there was an ambulance, too. Fear streaked through Jefferson anew. If there was an ambulance, that meant someone got hurt. 

Not giving a shit about the caution tape, Jefferson ducked under it, walking fast, his head turning this way and that looking for her, but he didn’t see her. “Delilah!” he shouted.

“Hey! You can’t be here! Get back behind the caution tape!” It was David Nolan. 

Jefferson ignored the prince-turned-sheriff until David jerked Jefferson back from getting too close to the building. 

“I said--” 

Jefferson whirled around and shoved David hard in the chest. “Is she in there!?” he yelled belligerently. “Delilah Mason! She’s the dance instructor. That’s her place!” 

“I know who’s place it is,” David said with forced patience. 

Jefferson had his hands in his hair making it stand up as he fretted, trying to get a look through the flames and past the firefighters.

“She’s not in there,” David shouted, pulling Jefferson back again. “She’s over there.” 

Jefferson’s eyes found the ambulance David was pointing at. Without a word to David, Jefferson sprinted toward the ambulance, dodging hoses and people.

\---  
  


“Are you sure she doesn't need to go to the hospital?” Derek asked again while holding up the oxygen mask to Delilah's mouth, the woman breathing in slowly like she had been instructed to. If Derek hadn’t got to her when he had...Delilah didn’t want to think about what would have happened. 

Her skin was damp, smudges of ash on her face. She watched with tears in her eyes as the studio burned. Her hands laid limp in her lap, her body feeling weak. Delilah felt her heart break as the flames engulfed the building. She had put every single cent she earned into renting that studio space and just like that...it was destroyed. Delilah had no energy, which was why she wasn’t fighting Derek as he held the oxygen to her mouth and nose for her. 

“If anyone needs to go to the hospital, it’s you,” the paramedic said. “That’s a nasty burn you got on your arm.” 

Delilah looked away from the burning building and over to Derek, eyes moving to his arm where she saw the burn. 

“I’ll be fine,” Derek said. “My only concern is Delilah.” 

“You’re hurt,” Delilah mumbled. She hadn’t noticed it before, but Derek had been badly burnt. 

“Honestly, Delilah,” Derek said while pushing her hair behind her ear. “I’ll live. You’re the one who needs to be seen.” Derek looked to the paramedic. “Take us to the damn hospital  _ now _ !” He ordered. “All the smoke she inhaled could be damaging her lungs!” 

Delilah’s eyelids felt heavy, a wave of emotion rushing through her that had her crying. 

“Oh, darling Delilah, it’s alright,” Derek said, pulling her into his arms. “I’m here. You’re safe,” he said softly. “I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you again.” 

The ballet studio...it was gone. 

Delilah let Derek hold her while she cried. 

Despite it being morning, the smoke from the fire was blackening the sky which produced a distorted resemblance of the Storybrooke Jefferson knew. He’d always felt this place was a sort of hell, and now it was truly looking and feeling like it. Smoke burned his nostrils and eyes and he was sweating from the heat and stress, but as he rounded the back of the ambulance, the sight before him was both a blessing and a curse. 

Delilah was there, alive and with an oxygen mask to her face, her eyes closed, but he could see the tears on her cheeks. There was some man leaning over her, holding the mask to her face but Jefferson paid him no mind assuming he was one of the EMTs. “Pardon me,” he said, his vocal chords somehow already straining. He wanted that man to move so he could get a better view of Delilah. “Delilah,” he said, addressing her, reaching a hand out to try to touch her though it was a bit of a stretch with how he was being blocked by medical equipment and the man leaning over her. 

Something caught his notice, the material of the man’s sleeve rolled up his forearm. It wasn’t an EMT uniform but a dress shirt. Jefferson did a double take as he realized the man was  _ Derek  _ of all people! And he was embracing Delilah! 

Jefferson jerked his head back, goggling at the man, he was so surprised to see him there. “You…” he said, in a whisper because that was all he could manage. A shout from the direction of the building drew Jefferson’s incredulous eyes just as a fireball erupted through the glass windows. ‘ _ Gas line!’  _ someone yelled. Jefferson looked back at Derek, at Delilah. “Delilah, honey, are you okay?” He tried again. Where was the goddamn EMT? Why was Derek here? He didn’t want to talk to Derek!

Upon hearing Jefferson’s voice, Delilah moved forward. She let out a soft sob when she saw him, overcome with emotions. Her hand slowly reached out for his, but winced with the IV of fluids began to rip at her skin. Derek moved his hand to rest on hers, occupying it so that she couldn’t try and reach for Jefferson’s hand. As a fireball erupted from the building, Delilah began to feel faint. How had this happened? This must be  _ her  _ fault. If she has saved enough money — if she had called Leroy to make repairs and go over everything. Dammit, why hadn’t she been more on top of things? The studio was burning and her heart was breaking. She found it hard to breathe, even with the oxygen mask held up to her face. 

Jefferson was saying her name, but Delilah couldn’t hear the rest of what he was saying, her eyes focusing on his lips to try and decipher what he was saying. The world was spinning and the only thing keeping her upright was Derek in that moment. 

“I’ve got her,” Derek told Jefferson. 

But she wanted  _ Jefferson _ . Delilah wanted his strong arms wrapped around her, to feel safe and  content. All Delilah felt while being held by Derek was her heartbreak and anxiety. 

That  _ ‘I’ve got her,’  _ shot adrenaline through Jefferson. That was precisely the last thing Jefferson wanted, but someone had to be there for Delilah as she coughed in the mask. He cringed as he watched, feeling helpless as he stood there watching.

“Je,” she started to say, only to start coughing harshly. She felt herself falling back and faintly heard Derek hollering for the EMT. 

Her eyes remained closed and Delilah struggled to breathe, taking shallow gasps. The ambulance engine started up and Delilah felt someone holding her hand. Who was with her? Was it still Derek? Or Jefferson? 

Derek was yelling for the EMT who ran up swiftly and waved Derek to move back for a moment. He stepped off the back of the ambulance and Jefferson moved back as well. His eyes drifted over Derek to notice the soot stains on the man’s clothing. The sleeve that had been rolled up his forearm was blackened in some areas above reddened and angry skin. He had been burned. 

Jefferson heard himself speaking without thinking first. “You were in there.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation. He felt momentarily detached from himself as the EMT worked in Jefferson’s peripheral vision. Delilah would be okay; she had to be. But Derek--why had he been around this early? The memory of how Derek had been watching Delilah the day before flashed before him again. There had been a look in the man’s eyes that looked… wrong. He was stalking her. Jefferson knew desperation--had lived it himself for twenty eight years in Storybrooke and an unknown amount of time in Wonderland. The lengths at which one would go to get what he wanted knew very few limits. And now Delilah was suffering. “You did this to her.” His fist was clenching Derek’s necktie as he gave the man a jerk forward.

Rothbart knew he couldn’t react the way he wanted to. The Mad Hatter was smarter than he looked, piecing the puzzle together. Rothbart just hoped no one had heard Jefferson accuse him of this. The grip Jefferson held on the necktie Rothbart wore was tight, yanking him forward. “I saved her life!” Rothbart said through gritted teeth. “Where were you? Hiding away in the woods? Delilah would be dead if it weren’t for me.” He glared at Jefferson. 

Despite not wanting to hear anything from this rat’s mouth, he heard everything. While Derek had saved her life--and he could be grateful for that--the fact that Derek  _ knew _ where Jefferson lived told him volumes more. Stalker, indeed!

“I tried to be Mr. Nice Guy with you since you’re her friend, but your accusations are insulting! I’d never harm Delilah.” 

One of the EMTs walked past the two men, talking on his radio about bringing in the ambulance to the hospital and to have a tank of oxygen waiting for them. 

Rothbart pushed Jefferson’s arm off of him and walked to the ambulance.

Jefferson was going to snort at the next words, that Derek would never hurt Delilah, but something was wrong with him. He felt a sense of vertigo overtake him. The shove at Jefferson brooked no resistance. He was barely holding on anyway, not even seeing the man that stood in front of him, but a  _ version _ of him. Yes, that’s what it was. The image before him was false. The name was false. The charm and wit presented were all false.

“We don’t have room,” the EMT said. 

“What about my arm. I thought it needed to be checked out.” Rothbart reminded the man. 

The EMT looked at his arm and nodded. “You can ride along, just stay out of the way.” 

Rothbart looked over his shoulder at Jefferson, smirking as he stepped into the ambulance. Through the back doors window, Rothbart waved his fingers at Jefferson as the ambulance drove away. 

_ “Jefferson. _ ..” Delilah mumbled, eyes closed still. 

Rothbart glared down at her. 

Jefferson took a few steps backward away from the ambulance without realizing he had done so. The ground was moving topsy turvy under his feet as the vertigo increased. 

“Come on, man, I gave you time to see she’s okay. Now you  _ have  _ to get out of here. It’s not safe!” David. That’s who was steering Jefferson away from the ambulance. 

“No,” Jefferson said weakly as he looked over his shoulder. The ambulance door was shut now and a hand was waving through the glass window. “Rothbart…” 

“What?” David said. 

Jefferson’s feet stumbled over the curb and he fell to his hands and knees, breathing heavily. He turned and let himself roll onto his back as he stared at the smoke-blackened sky.

“Do you need an ambulance too?” David asked. He didn’t wait for an answer but started gesticulating briskly overhead at someone to come and help. Jefferson didn’t answer, but only stared unseeing at the sky. Flashes of the past year were whirling through his mind. He remembered. 

  
  


**The Enchanted Forest**

_ Five weeks ago _

  
  
His fist pounded on a wooden door. The hut was practically in a bog, Jefferson thought irritably. He wouldn’t have brought Grace to a place like this if he wasn’t desperate. There was no answer after the brief moment Jefferson had paused to look behind himself at Grace as she was bundled up in her cloak. He smiled at her as best as he could manage to assure her it was going to be okay. No, he wouldn’t have left her behind, unsupervised, even for the briefest of errands in the past year, and he certainly wouldn’t do it now of all times.

Turning back to the door, he pounded on it again. To his intense relief and somewhat horror, the door swung inwards to reveal the glittery-skinned reptile standing within. “Well, well, well, well, welllllll….” Rumplestiltskin grinned, his bulging eyes more startling than anything. It had been a very long time. “Lookie who we have here.” The dark talons beckoned the visitors in.

Jefferson took a steadying breath of fortitude and reached back to take Grace’s hand. She bravely stepped forward and into the hut with him and his heart both swelled and broke in the moment. “I’m sorry to come without notice,” Jefferson started, but a  _ tut tut tut,  _ interrupted him.

“Tis not without notice,” Rumplestiltskin said, rather haughtily. “I knew you’d be here any day now. I believe you’re late, however.” He peeled back the lacy sleeve to look at the bare, scaly wrist as if a wrist watch should be there. The imp mumbled something and then shook himself. “Tiiiiime… is on our side. Yes, it is!” He struck a finger into the air with a victorious grin and Jefferson frowned. Had that been a reference to a song from their time in Storybrooke? The man, or imp or whatever he was, was practically raving. Had he lost his mind in the span of the last year?

“What’s wrong with you?” Grace asked quietly beside him. “Aren’t you Mister Gold?”

Jefferson patted his brave girl’s shoulder and gently ushered her behind himself. 

The eerie eyes widened even more so than they already were as the imp grinned. “Two minds, stuck in one head can cause quite the conundrum; can they not, Jefferson?” 

Jefferson only grimaced, but ignored the oddly placed question. “If you knew I was coming, then you know there’s another curse coming.”

Rumplestiltskin mumbled incoherently and turned away, nodding and twitching as he went. Jefferson found a wooden rocking chair in the room he and Grace presently stood in and instructed her to sit there and wait for him. She knew this was important as she had been told before they had ventured this way and she nodded with a “Yes, Papa.”

A moment later, Jefferson followed around a corner into the earthen hut to find Rumple sitting at a wooden spinning wheel. “Shit,” Jefferson mumbled at the sight of the contraption. Of what he remembered of his old employer, the spinning wheel was used for nerves and calming in addition to spinning golden straw. There was no gold at the moment. Just spun straw.

“I have a confession,” Jefferson said quietly, his eyes on his boots. Rumple merely giggled as his foot continued to depress the pedal. Sighing, Jefferson stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. “Years ago, you hired me to find a ring from a castle. I returned some objects to you from that castle, but not the ring. And I mentioned…”

“A painting of a swan!” Rumple shouted with a finger poking at the air. His attention went directly back to the wheel.

Jefferson felt his nerves fluttering in his stomach. “Yes,” he said quietly. Finding his resolve, he continued. “I found the ring.” Rumple nodded as he absently continued pumping the pedal and turning the wheel. “It was a ring of protection and I thought I might need it more than you did. Anyway, I kept it for a long time and then Grace was born and I thought I’d give it to her one day. To protect her.” 

The words were spilling forth more rapidly now, the confession becoming a form of verbal ablution that lifted a weight from his shoulders as he continued. “And then Storybrooke happened and I forgot all about the things I had here. And now we’re back, and…” He glanced about himself, momentarily wondering as Grace had asked, what the hell had happened to Mister Gold to be so reverted to the life of a reptilian hermit. Never before had the Dark One been so primitive as far as Jefferson had known him. 

He ran a hand roughly through his short hair. “Well, several months ago, a swan came to my home and wouldn’t leave me alone until I followed  _ her. _ Anyway, she turned out to be the very princess from the paintings in that castle where the ring came from. From Rothbart’s castle,” he nearly spat the name out. “She said  _ you _ had sent her to me. So I know  _ damn well _ you knew I had that ring all that time. The question is why did you let me keep it? Did you know I’d give it to her? That I’d…” His words trailed off. No, he wouldn’t go into private details on his feelings for her. For Odette. 

The momentary silence was interrupted by a low chuckle. “Oh, ye of little faith, Jefferson.” It wasn’t the impish voice this time, but the soft voice of Mister Gold speaking despite what Jefferson’s eyes were seeing before him. The scaly hand gestured toward a short stool next to the spinning wheel and Jefferson sat on it without hesitation. The wheel was making a hypnotic whirring sound that was starting to feel in sync with the beats of Jefferson’s heart. Eerie, but cozy just the same. “The curse will come, have nae doubt, but when it does, you will hear the phrase ‘Mister Nice Guy’ and the fog on your mind will lift.” Jefferson frowned as he listened to this. “It will not be easy, just like the first time was not, but ye must persevere and remain patient. In payment, you will  _ find ME.” _ Jefferson’s eyes raised from the spinning wheel to look into the bulging, manic eyes. “FIND ME,” Rumplestiltskin repeated, the mania returning to his voice. “DO WE HAVE A DEAL!?” He was shouting now and Jefferson stood, overturning the stool. 

Nodding, Jefferson said a hurried, “Yes.”

The mania subsided and Rumple nodded as he reached his scaly fingers into his dirty scrap of a cloak. He extended a vial to Jefferson. “So be it. Drink this and the deal is struck.”

It was murky brown inside the vial and Jefferson wondered briefly if it was bog water, but he should know better than doubt the Dark One anyway. Belief was something Jefferson had in abundance after what he’d seen. He snatched the vial and drank it in one gulp.

“You will find me as you found Belle. A prisoner below ground, out of mind, but not out of time.” He grinned to reveal crooked, dirty teeth, but there wasn’t happiness Jefferson saw there, but an utter sadness. “The deal is struck! Now go away! It’s coming!” He laughed and disrupted his spinning wheel. 

Jefferson didn’t wait to be told twice. He ran from the spinning room, round a corner and found Grace standing there just as eager to go as he was. He reached out and lifted her, holding her against his chest as he ran from the hut into the boggy forest. 

The imp was right, of course, he always was. A dark fog was rolling in from the sky above the barren trees. The curse was upon them. He shut his eyes tight and held Grace’s head against his shoulder. “I love you, baby,” he whispered to her. And they were gone.

  
  


**_Presently in Storybrooke_ **

  
  
Someone was messing with his neck and Jefferson’s focus snapped to the face of a medic leaning over him. “Don’t touch me!” Jefferson snapped, shoving the groping fingers away. His scarf had been loosened and he noticed the look of shock in the woman’s face as she turned her eyes from the scar ringing his neck to his face.

David had the decency to look away. Some already knew about the scar, even if not how he got it. 

Jefferson got up and brushed himself off as he looked around for that ambulance. Where was Delilah? He knew though. It had already left. And it wasn’t Delilah anyway. She was Odette.  _ His Odette _ . And she was in the arms of the very wicked beast that had cursed her, cursed them all back to Storybrooke.

‘Mister Nice Guy,’ Derek--no Rothbart--had said, and it all had come rushing back to Jefferson. It had been too much for him in the moment but it was enough to distract him while the ambulance took off with Odette and Rothbart. “Fuck,” he said bitterly and the EMT backed off, blinking. 

David laughed nervously and waved the EMT on. He got into Jefferson’s face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you now, but you need to stop.” Jefferson laughed with the build up of knowledge and anxiety at David’s words that had echoed Grace’s sentiment over the mentally deranged Rumplestiltskin just five weeks ago. What was wrong with him? Too much, and at the same time nothing at all!

David continued on after only frowning at Jefferson. “Delilah will be fine after she’s checked over at the hospital. Don’t start that raving stuff again. You seem to have it all together lately. I saw the newspaper from Miner’s Day. You’ve done some good around here. Let’s keep on the right track, okay?”

Jefferson was having none of it. He shot a glare at David as his fingers quickly tightened the scarf to conceal the scar and his dignity. “Don’t lecture me, Your Highness. I know exactly what’s going on. Nothing’s wrong with me. It’s what’s wrong with all of you if you’re too blind to see… like I was.” His voice trailed off as he looked again in the direction of the hospital. “I need to find Mister Gold. Have you seen him?”

David shook his head, obvious doubt clouding his eyes. “Why did you call me Your Highness? Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

Jefferson slapped himself in the forehead. Of course. It wasn’t only Delilah that was cursed. Regina might not be, but it seemed a selective bunch were. “Nevermind,” he said between his teeth. “Mister Gold?” he reminded.

David shook his head. “No idea. He’s been gone from Storybrooke far longer than I can remember.”

Jefferson looked away. His car was parked on the sidewalk, the door left open. He needed to go home and  _ think. _ There was more coming to him every second and it was all a thick blur in his mind. They all had been back in the Enchanted Forest for a year before Rothbart’s curse sent them back. Maybe if he could be still and  _ think _ , he could get a clue about what to do. 

For now, Delilah--Odette--was at the hospital, at least. She needed to be there, company notwithstanding, and Jefferson needed to think.

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

* * *

**THE ENCHANTED FOREST**

**_THE MISSING YEAR_ **

  
  
  


Stuck. Yet again, she was stuck. Trapped as a swan until she could find this retired portal jumper and the ring he had in his possession. Odette felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in decades. After being frozen in time for twenty eight years, Odette wondered if she’d ever find a way to break the curse Rothbart placed on her. 

She had gone to the Dark One, trying to lead him back to the Swan Lake in hopes to return to the lake in time to have the moonlight touch her wings while in the water. It wasn’t necessary; The Dark One had already been waiting for her. 

_ “If it isn’t the Swan Princess,” _ the Dark One said loudly, standing tall in front of the animal.  _ “Odette, daughter of King William, hostage of Rothbart.” _ Odette felt the urge to peck at the imp’s feet, but stopped herself from committing the act.  _ “Let me guess...you’ve come to me to break your curse!” _ The Dark One giggled.  _ “If only it were that possible. You see, there was only  _ **_one_ ** _ loophole around this curse of yours. And that was stolen many years ago — a ring, made of moonstone, enchanted to protect the wearer.”  _

Odette wanted so badly to speak, to ask the Dark One where she could find this ring. But all that came out was a hiss. The Dark One laughed loudly, looking crazed. Yet again, Odette had to restrain herself. 

_ “You’ll find a home deep in the Enchanted Forest, not too far from Swan Lake. A man and his young daughter live there; he has the ring you seek. And only he can give it to you.”  _

The swan's eyes narrowed in a glare. How was she supposed to get this man to give a  _ swan  _ a ring? He’d likely try to hunt her and have her cooked for supper. 

_ “As soon as the ring is on your finger, you will remain human. No one, not even Rothbart himself will be able to take off the ring.”  _

She’d be free? 

_ "Not exactly free. Cursed you shall remain. Until Rothbart is defeated for good.”  _ The swan let out another hissing noise, frustrated with the Dark One’s riddles.  _ “Find the Mad Hatter and you will know freedom.”  _

Odette flew away, set off to find this Mad Hatter who lived deep in the woods. 

Finally, she found the home, landing in the garden in the back. She watched as a girl played with her father happily. The swan blinked, looking up at the sky. The sun was setting; she didn’t have much time now. She needed to lead the man to the lake and somehow keep him unseen from Rothbart. Making noise, Odette tried to gain the man and his daughter’s attention. 

\---

Ever since he and Grace had returned to the Enchanted Forest, Jefferson had tried hard to find ways to make chores into games. Grace was nearing eleven years old, almost a pre-teen in the way she acted sometimes. Finding themselves back in a more primitive existence was hard for a young girl accustomed to technology. Nevertheless, both father and daughter were equally glad to have each other again and soon both adjusted to a simpler life as best they could. And a simpler life also included not having literally anything Grace wanted like she had for the single month together in the mansion before they were all transported again. 

In a nutshell, they were poor again. 

But every day, Jefferson found he was smiling more and more, not taking any moment for granted. Even when Grace had a fit over something like her clothes or not getting to have a sleepover with her ‘BFF’ who lived much too far away now for short visits. Jefferson could wish he still had a car or even a horse, but he didn’t, so if they wanted to go somewhere, they were walking. 

On this particular day, they were making a game out of seeing who could pull up the most carrots and potatoes from the garden behind their small home. The water was set to boil in the fireplace inside and they still needed to chop the vegetables up for the stew they would have. 

Panting a little from the exertion of bending over and twisting to shake the dirt free of the roots and then drop his findings in a wooden bucket, Jefferson grinned. “I’m gonna win,” he boasted playfully to Grace. He wiped his sleeve across his forehead, immensely glad he had short hair now. There was no way he was going to let himself go like he had the last time they had lived in poverty. In fact, he was making better fitting clothes for himself and for Grace now in as close a resemblance as he could manage to Storybrooke styles with the material he had on hand. Just because they were poor didn’t mean they had to forget  _ how _ to live comfortably. 

Grace narrowed her eyes, a little competitive now, he found, and she dug her hands into the rich soil pulling up the biggest bunch of potatoes yet. “In your dreams!” she crowed. 

Jefferson laughed. Her bucket was in fact much fuller than his. “I think you’ve beat me, pumpkin.”

“Papa…” she moaned at the nickname, but grinned anyway dusting her hands off. 

“Let’s get these inside,” he suggested as he dumped Grace’s pile onto his so he could carry their haul in. 

Grace was skipping ahead when she stopped, her mouth forming an O as she pointed. “Look, Papa! A swan! In our garden!”

Jefferson turned to see it, sleek and perfectly white. “Huh. That’s weird.” He hadn’t seen such a fine looking bird this far away from the lake before. “Maybe it’s hungry.” He frowned a little, wondering what swans even ate. Didn’t they eat fish? Well, that meant it wouldn’t go tearing up his garden, so he didn’t care. “Go home!” he told the bird. “We’ve got nothing for you here. Come on, Grace.” 

He turned, smiling at his daughter, and stepped through the rows of the garden toward the house.

If it were possible for her to frown, she would have. Odette flapped her wings to show her frustration, making a mess of the garden.  _ Go home! _ He had told her. " _ What home? "  _ She thought bitterly. She hasn’t had a home in decades. Her father was dead and Derek...it was still too hard for Odette to think about Derek. 

Stomping around the garden, mucking everything up, Odette continued to try to get the man and his daughter’s attention.  _ “Please!”  _ She begged, though the only sound that came out was a hiss.  _ “Help me!”  _

She needed the man to follow her back to the lake so that she could turn into a human,  _ then  _ she would be able to properly explain her situation. Her wings flapped again, her long neck stretching towards the woods.  _ “Follow me!”  _ She tried to scream. 

The swan was making such a racket with all that hissing and flapping, feathers flying everywhere--and the garden! Peppers were falling off their vines, tomatoes were being squashed, and the strawberries were reduced to muddy jam! “Damn it!” he yelled, dropping the bucket which caused the vegetables to fall everywhere. 

“Papa, you swore!” Grace informed him, giggling at him and the swan.

“Hey!” Shouting might get through to the maniacal bird, but with the way it was hissing, he wasn’t sure if he should get too close. “What the hell? Is it rabid?” he wondered aloud. “Grace, go inside and get a broom!”

“Papa!” she shouted, a little startled at the prospect of violence to a wild swan, but seriously, he’d never seen one go stark raving mad that quickly.

Unless… 

“You don’t suppose someone’s in trouble at the lake?” he said to Grace. “I saw some episodes of _Lassie_ and the dog would do that when Timmy fell in the well. Look how it’s kind of pointing that way.”

Grace rolled her eyes and returned to Jefferson’s side, both now squinting in disbelief at the swan. “Please stop tearing up our garden. Is there trouble at the lake?” Grace asked the swan with the utmost politeness.

Jefferson didn’t expect anything but more maniacal flapping and destruction, but then again, this was the Enchanted Forest. Stranger things have happened than… rescue swans.

At the young girl’s sweet request, Odette finally calmed. She moved her head up and down when she mentioned the lake.  _ “Yes!”  _ She tried to scream.

Odette moved closer to the girl, gently biting down on the skirt of her dress and tugged it.  _ “Please.” _ She hoped her eyes were conveying just how desperate she was to get them to the lake. Rothbart was still searching for her, leaving Swan Lake to travel someplace far away to find an object that would break the fairies’ magic. He was gone — for now. Odette needed to get them to the lake  _ tonight _ . It was her only shot. 

Both Jefferson and Grace’s eyes widened in surprise at the swan's ability to nod. “I should say I can’t believe we’re talking to a swan, but…” He shrugged looking in wonder at the bird as it began pulling on Grace’s skirt. “Well, let’s go see who’s in trouble.”

Odette tugged at the girl’s dress more, urging them to follow her. She looked up at the man, jerking her head in the direction of the lake. Finally letting go of the dress, Odette moved towards the direction of the lake, looking over her shoulder to make sure they followed. 

The sun was setting. By the time they got to the lake, there would just be enough time for Odette to land on the water where the moon would touch her wings and she’d transform into her true self. It had been so long since she had been in her human form, Rothbart had been staking out the lake in the hopes she’d return.  _ Never. _ She’d never return to the lake if he was there. Even with the fairies’ magic hiding her from Rothbart, the risk was too great. 

The swan went ahead and the two followed. Grace periodically jogged to get closer, then would slow to allow Jefferson to catch up. He was in no hurry, merely watching the swan suspiciously as he followed, his ears attuned to the sounds around him. If someone were to leap out at them, what could he do? He had no pistol here. But if they were walking into an ambush… But why would someone send a raving swan to lure them to the lake? It made no sense. 

Grace followed the swan all the way to the water’s edge and peeled her shoes off so she could stand in the water. Jefferson stopped farther back so he could get a better look at their surroundings. He didn’t see anyone in trouble here. The sun was already below the tree line and the stars and moon were just starting to become visible. It would be dark soon. “Grace,” he said reluctantly, but also relieved. “There’s no one here. Let’s go back.”

But Grace made a sharp noise. “Papa, look!” She was pointing over the water. 

Odette felt the transformation happening, the water around her engulfing her as it shimmered with magic. She could feel the moon’s light on her stretched out arms, her body half emerged in the lake still. Odette looked to the young girl who had followed her into the lake. She sighed in relief, hands moving to touch her face to make sure she was once again human. Odette smiled, moving forward and towards the young girl. Odette wanted nothing more than to hug her — to thank her over and over again. 

Jefferson had to blink a few times at the woman who appeared in the swan's place, thinking his eyes were going unfocused in the twilight of the evening. He frowned, stepping closer to where Grace stood. This was reminding him of something. She touched her face and smiled and Jefferson’s eyebrow twitched, his lips parting. He was too surprised and in awe of the situation to think further. 

“Hi,” she breathed out, her own voice foreign sounding in that moment. “Thank you.” Odette smiled down at the girl. “My name is Odette.” 

The little ‘Hi’ she said to Grace sounded so soft and kind. There wasn’t any reason he should be concerned over this. It was just a woman transforming from a swan. No big deal.

She then looked to Jefferson, seeing his expression. “We don’t have long,” Odette said, looking up at the night sky. As soon as the moon was gone, she’d turn back into a swan and she didn’t know how long it would be until Rothbart left Swan Lake again. “You have something I need,” she told the man. “Please,” she looked at the girl and then back to the man. “You’re my only hope.” 

_ Odette. _ The ballerina painting from so many years ago. Odette was her name. Jefferson was looking at her in awe, disbelieving he was actually seeing the woman he had only heard about nearly forty years ago by now.  _ That was a long time to be cursed. _ And he felt empathy for her then. So it was all true.

He was studying her, just watching how the woman interacted with Grace who was delighted to meet her based on the grin on his daughter’s face. 

She was probably a princess based on the way she was dressed in the fine gown and the jewels in her hair. And she needed something  _ he _ had? He shook his head, unsure. “Uh,” he looked to Grace before looking back to Odette. Was he supposed to bow or something in the Enchanted Forest? Should he be formal? It had been a long time and he hadn’t exactly been very formal to the other royalty once they all had gotten back to this land. But there was something about her that didn’t seem to have anything to do with Storybrooke. He would have heard about a swan who turned into a woman, surely. But he had! The story of the Swan Princess. The children’s story and ballet was based on something from another world just like the story of Alice in Wonderland, like Snow White and her Seven Dwarves. And here he was face to face with the Swan Princess. 

He made an awkward half-bow, more of a dip of his head while keeping his eyes on her as he said, “Of course, Your Highness.” He had nothing of value. If she needed transport, she could just forget it. “But I apologize if you came here looking for a portal jumper. I don’t do that anymore.”

_ Your Highness. _

It had been so long since someone had addressed her by that title. It caused her to blink in surprise — mostly because she was shocked that this man knew she was a princess. After all, she had just been a swan moments earlier. Had word spread of her curse? Did the people of the Enchanted Forest know what Rothbart had done to her? That left her feeling incredibly sad. Her tale had been told and no one tried to save her — or better, stop Rothbart of his evil doings. She felt her heart drop in her stomach. 

“I don't need a portal jumper,” Odette told the man. “I need  _ you. _ ” She stressed. The Dark One had sent her to find this Mad Hatter, who looked surprisingly sane, because he had the ring she sought. “You stole a ring a long time ago,” Odette started, looking briefly at the man's daughter. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that in front of her. She didn’t know what secrets her father kept from her. Her eyes moved back to the man as she stepped out of the lake. “A moonstone, enchanted to protect the person who wears it.” 

Jefferson looked at this woman — this princess — quizzically at first, surprised that she knew  _ he  _ had stolen anything. Whomever had sent her must know who he is. That was an unsettling thought. It also meant Grace might not exactly be safe. He followed Odette’s gaze to Grace as well.

But when she mentioned the moonstone ring and the fact that it would protect the wearer, his eyes flared wider for just a moment. It was probably too late, but he tried to make his expression blank, if not vague again as he looked away from the princess as she approached. Damn! He’d wanted to keep that for Grace’s protection. Was it Rumpelstiltskin that had dimed him out or was it that horrible sorcerer that knew he had stolen it so many years ago? He’d hedge his bets on Rumpel and if that was the case, then Grace was still safe.

“You seem to be familiar with who I am.” She tried not to feel any bitterness towards that. “The ring,” Odette sighed, standing in front of the man. “If I wear it, it will keep me human. I’ll be safe from the daylight turning me back into a swan.” She tried to explain. “Please.” She grabbed the man's hands. “This is my last hope...the possible way to beat my curse.”

It was the truth. 

Derek was dead. And unless the dead could be brought back to life; a proclamation of everlasting love to break her curse was impossible. 

Odette was standing before him now, which drew Jefferson’s eyes to her again. She was very beautiful, he noticed, as he took in the features of her face. The desperation was in her eyes as she spoke and it made his heart break for her situation, but it was a difficult situation. As she explained why she wanted that ring, he recalled how sad the figure in the painting had been, even if it had been such a long time ago. He remembered the sadness and he felt it overwhelm him. 

She had grabbed his hands, pleading for his help, and he had to look away from her eyes and down at their hands.  _ But Grace needs it, _ he thought. How could he say no to such a request?

“Well,” he drawled, thinking as desperately as he could and looking back up to meet Odette’s eyes, “If there is one  _ possible _ way, that must imply that there could be at least six impossible ways to beat the curse.” Not that he’d had any damn luck at all in attempting to beat curses, but he’d never been one to give up trying. “If I didn’t have this ring you assume I stole, I mean.” Crap. He was quoting that damn Alice in Wonderland book he’d read out of curiosity during the Dark Curse. That was never a sign of sanity. It was just the desperation to hold on to what he found safe and best for Grace.

Grace must have sensed his distress and was there at their sides. “Papa,” she whispered a little too loudly. “She’s pretty.” His darling and sometimes devilish daughter winked at him before turning the sweetest of smiles toward Odette while Jefferson felt his neck flushing above his scarf. “Can you come to dinner at our house and we can talk about this ring and your curse? I hope you don’t mind, Papa.” She smiled brightly at Jefferson as he glared at her in disbelief.

He cleared his throat to catch his bearings and nodded. “Um, yes she is very pretty, Grace.” And sent an apologetic look to the princess for his daughter’s candor. “Would you like to come to dinner to discuss this?”

Odette dropped the man's hands and looked down at his daughter, who sweetly invited her to join the two for dinner. Odette looked up at the moon in the sky, frowning slightly. It would be hours before the sun rose, giving her enough time to explain her situation — but the man seemed as though he was in no rush to give her that ring. In fact, it felt like he didn’t  _ want _ to give Odette the ring. Perhaps he was mad after all. Odette had  _ just  _ escaped one mad man; would she really risk being entrapped by another? 

She looked at him curiously when he too invited her for dinner, trying to understand why he wouldn’t admit that he had the ring. Did he want it for himself? Or...for his daughter? The ring protected the wearer — did this young girl need protection? 

The man had called his daughter Grace after agreeing with her that Odette was indeed pretty. She smiled softly, not sure if he had said that only to be polite — she had been a swan moments earlier; she supposed anything would look pretty in comparison. 

Odette looked down at Grace again, who eagerly waited for an answer to the dinner invitation. If it helped her convince the man she was worthy of that ring, she’d join them. “That’s very kind of you.” Odette said softly to them both. “It’s been a while since I’ve had something...edible.” Not since she was last human. That felt like ages ago. Odette’s diet mainly consisted of grass, algae, and pondweed. Anything had to taste better than that. It was best to get away from Swan Lake anyway, who knew when Rothbart might appear. 

Jefferson nodded at the statement that she’d not had anything edible for a while. She must have remained a swan for a while, he gathered. That would explain why he’d never seen her around the lake before, at least not as a woman. This helped fill in some of the gaps in her specific curse. The lake was the only place she could return to human form. She hadn’t explained any other ‘possible’ ways to break her curse and he feared the only way might actually be that ring. If he even still had it…

He had to wrack his brain to recall where he last had put that ring. It had been before Storybrooke. Same house, at least. Maybe the trunk where he used to keep the hat. He no longer had the hat, of course, but that trunk was still buried in the back of the closet. How embarrassing it would be to have to dig through it, uncertain if he still had it.

“I hope what we serve for dinner pleases you,” Jefferson told Odette. 

Odette stepped forward, her legs wobbly causing her to fall forward and into the man. With wide eyes, Odette apologized. “It’s been quite some time since I last had legs.” She admitted. “I’ve forgotten how to properly use them,” Odette said in embarrassment. 

Jefferson looked down at her as she had fallen into him. He could get lost in her eyes, he realized as he smiled at her and helped her stand upright again to reposition her hand onto the crook of his elbow to help her walk. “I’m Jefferson. It’s nice to meet you, Princess Odette.”  It had been quite some time since he'd had a woman falling quite literally into his arms. He’d have to watch his behavior--usually rather crass with people he didn’t know, royalty or not. And Grace was watching with an eagerness similar to if she had a TV again. He sighed as he looked ahead at the trail they would take to get back to the small home.

_Jefferson._ His name was Jefferson. It suited him much better than what the Dark One had called him, Odette thought. 

Grace skipped ahead, and took to running so she would beat them to the house. She was up to something, Jefferson could tell, but had to dismiss it so as not to alarm Odette. “We live a rather simple life here so I apologize that I can’t offer better accommodations for dinner.” No, he would not miss his life in Storybrooke. Not for anything. This, what he had with Grace was better, he had to remind himself even if he was a little embarrassed by it. Odette was a princess and was probably accustomed to finer things, better dressed men of status whom she could walk arm in arm with, but, it was what it was, and he couldn’t wish for better at the price of losing Grace. 

Odette walked with Jefferson, smiling in amusement as his daughter ran forward. She sighed at the sight, thinking back to her childhood with her father. It was clear to Odette that Jefferson loved his daughter, and that she loved him just as much. It made her long for her father, even decades after his passing, it still caused her heart to ache when she thought of him. His large, bushy eyebrows that would pinch together when she’d misbehave, the kind, large grin that would appear whenever she beat him at a game of chess. And how proud he had looked while he watched her dance with Derek after they announced their engagement. 

It felt odd to hold onto another man's arm. She knew Jefferson had offered his arm to her out of politeness to help her walk straight, but the only other man she had walked arm and arm with (aside from her father) was Derek. Odette inhaled deeply, trying to push away the feeling that  _ somehow  _ by letting another man hold her, she was diminishing her loves’ memory. 

_ He’s gone,  _ Odette reminded herself. There was nothing in this world that would bring back Derek.

Nothing to break her curse. 

Only the ring. 

She peered up at Jefferson when he apologized for not having better accommodations for dinner. Odette couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “I’ve been cursed as a swan since I was twenty-one years old, Jefferson. That was nearly forty years ago.” She said, still chuckling. Odette meant no offense by laughing. But she found it humorous that Jefferson might think that his accommodations might not be enough for her. “The last lavish meal I had was hours before I was cursed — anything, and I mean  _ anything  _ has to taste better than what I have been forced to eat as a swan.” 

Nearly forty years ago? Jefferson blinked at Odette as she spoke about her curse. So she had been in Storybrooke, he assumed. How had he missed  _ her _ ? Likely from hiding away in that mansion, he figured. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly, meaning it, and put his hand over hers on his arm. Maybe he should have tried to do something, besides mentioning the cursed woman’s portrait to Rumplestiltskin anyway. He’d just been too young and reckless to do something then. But now… he could help her. Being forced to eat lake muck had to have been horrible. Maybe he could figure out a way to make her first dinner a little extra special.

They reached the small home, and Odette smiled. It might not be a castle, but it was a  _ home. _ Lived in and loved. Odette could see that. She had even noticed it as a swan. She winced, thinking of the poor garden she had ruined trying to gain their attention. 

“I apologize for ruining your garden,” Odette said, embarrassed by her behavior. “I was feeling desperate.” 

“I know desperation, believe me. The garden will grow back. It’s me who should apologize for the broom remark.” He winced at how he had meant to chase her off with it before he knew. “Can you stand on your own for a moment?” he asked her beside the split rail fence which really wouldn’t keep anything out. Obviously not since Odette had gotten in as a swan. 

“Believe it or not, you wouldn’t be the first person to shoo me away with a broom,” Odette admitted with a smile. She nodded when Jefferson asked her if she could stand on her own. She’d manage just fine, but it was awfully sweet of Jefferson to worry.

He had to retrieve the dropped bucket of vegetables for their dinner. He squatted by the bucket and hurriedly tossed the dropped potatoes and carrots in, then lifted the bucket to return to Odette’s side, sticking out his elbow if she needed it. 

Odette watched as Jefferson quickly gathered up the bucket vegetables he had earlier dropped and then returned to her side. She smiled wide when he yet again offered her his arm. Odette looped her arm through his and let him lead her to his home. 

He pushed open the wooden door of the house with a booted foot and would wait to allow Odette to precede him in. Glancing in the door, he saw exactly what Grace had been up to. She had quickly put together a bouquet of flowers and set them in a pitcher in the center of the table and lit the oil lamps so the interior had a soft, ambient glow. Jefferson slid a side eye at his thoughtful girl and smirked. She had also picked up her few stuffed animals and put them on her bed in the corner. 

“Welcome to our humble abode,” he said to Odette. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have decided to post updates to this story and our other which is a modern AU, Never (Have I Ever), every 3-4 days so you don't have to wait too long to find out what happens next. This one is quite a whopper in length. Kate estimates it is around 100 chapters (good lord...). Yes, we know what happens long term because it's already been written in length, but we don't want to give any spoilers in the replies to your comments, so we may just cheer or rage along with you.  
> We really enjoy your comments, especially the ones where you're hating on 'Derek!' Keep them coming! They make us smile.  
> They encourage us to keep writing.   
> The moodboard at the top was made by Kate.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

The warmth from inside the home was refreshing compared to the chill outside, the small home neatly kept. She spotted the flowers on the table, a bouquet of beautiful wild flowers, a soft glow of light came from a lantern and the atmosphere felt...peaceful. It left Odette smiling as she stepped inside. _Well to our humble abode,_ Jefferson said once inside as well. 

“Your home is lovely,” Odette told both Jefferson and Grace. She walked towards the table with the flowers, inhaling deeply. Odette looked at Grace, “and such exceptional taste.” She complimented the girl. “These have to be the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.” 

Rothbart used to leave her roses at the end of the lake every night, waiting for her to turn into a human — what he expected, she didn’t know. Was she meant to fall to her knees and thank the wicked man? She despised roses now, the scent making her feel nauseated. Odette, as a swan, had pecked each petal into shreds, destroying the roses. 

“I need to chop up the vegetables for dinner, Grace, but I’ll get the tea ready for you. You and Princess Odette should have tea.” He smiled--pride in his eyes as he watched his sweet girl being such a good host--listening while he kept busy with cleaning and chopping. 

So she liked flowers. That was interesting. But not relevant, he scolded himself, and frowned as he chopped the carrots and dropped the handful in a bowl. Just because she was here and had said she needed _him_ specifically did not mean anything. She needed the ring. Not him. It didn’t help that she was beautiful and kind to Grace. Grace obviously liked her, too. 

Grace hurried over to Odette and grabbed her hand, pulling her to sit down in a chair. “Papa, perhaps we can have a tea party?” Odette chuckled, looking to Jefferson to watch his response. “Do you like tea?” Grace asked Odette. 

“Very much so.” She answered. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had tea.” She then looked at Jefferson and smiled. “—or have been treated so kindly,” she added. “Thank you.” The only other people who had treated her with kindness were Princess Aurora’s fairies. But with the young woman awake now and in need of her fairies. They had left Odette with a parting gift, using their magic to hide her from Rothbart, something they had done with Aurora while hiding her from Maleficent. 

“Your necklace is very beautiful,” Grace commented, causing Odette to touch the golden heart locket. She forced herself to smile, trying to hide her sadness. 

“Thank you, Grace.”

“Did a prince give it to you?” She asked next. 

Odette clutched tightly to the necklace. “Yes,” she said sadly. “It was an engagement gift.” 

Grace's eyes widened. “What happened to him?” The girl was smart, knowing _something_ must have happened to the man if Odette had no other means to break the curse. 

Odette let go of the locket, and closed her eyes. _Don’t make me say it...don’t make me say out loud that he is dead. Gone forever because he loved me._

Jefferson’s eyes turned up as he was chopping, when Grace mentioned the necklace Odette wore. The knife in his hand stilled as Odette mentioned it was an engagement gift. But Grace’s next question must have been too invasive because the expression on Odette’s face immediately reminded him of the painting in that castle. The sadness. He would bet his last copper that there was no _him_ anymore. He felt the pang in his heart, and sighed. There was no holding back. He was going to have to find that ring. 

“Grace,” Jefferson called, interrupting. “The water is ready. Come get the tea tray, please?”

Grace got up from her seat at the table, and biting her lip, approached the kitchen area to fetch the tray which carried the cups and saucers, sugar dish, and spoons. Jefferson carried the teapot to the table and set it down. “We don’t have any cream,” he told Odette, hoping she would know she didn’t have to talk about _him_ if she didn’t want to. “No one around here has a cow or goat yet since we’ve only just returned a couple months ago. It’s funny, the things we take for granted until they’re gone. Like refrigerators, for example.” He shrugged, thinking she might agree. 

“Or phones,” Grace added, dreamily, plopping down in the seat next to Odette again. Her eyes settled on the necklace again, still wondering. 

_Oh…_ _shit_ … _Unless she had spent the entirety of the Dark Curse as a swan_. Jefferson blanched and quickly turned back to the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t stuck his foot in his mouth over that. 

The bowl of chopped vegetables was upended into the boiling cast iron pot in the fireplace. Next, he had to chop up the herbs.

Meanwhile, Grace poured the hot water over the tea strainer into each cup. “What’s it like to fly? I’ve always wanted to go on a plane, but never got the chance before we came back here.”

Jefferson stopped in his chopping again, looking up to see how Odette would respond.

_Refrigerators? Phones? Planes?_

Odette had never heard of these things they spoke of. Her brows knit together in confusion, wondering exactly what kind of land they had lived in before coming back to the Enchanted Forest. She knew that the Evil Queen had cast a curse that took parts of the land to a new world, but she didn’t know much else. Only that Rothbart’s land hadn’t been taken, protected by the Queen of Hearts. 

The woman, as evil as she was, played a part in Odette gaining a bit of freedom. She imprisoned Rothbart for twenty-eight years, his power a threat to the Queen of Hearts. It wasn’t until the Dark Curse had been broken and Cora left the Enchanted Forest that Rothbart had managed to escape. 

“Princess Odette?” Grace said, breaking Odette from her thoughts. She was holding out a cup full of tea for Odette to take. 

“Flying,” Odette said, taking the cup of tea from the young girl. “It feels like…” How could she possibly explain what it felt like to fly? She pursed her lips, trying to come up with an analogy that Grace might understand. “Have you ever ridden a horse so fast down hill that your stomach feels as though it dropped?”

“A tummy tickle,” Grace said with a smile. “That’s what we called them in Storybrooke…” The girl looked over at Jefferson for a moment before whispering to Odette. “My cursed family had a car that could go really fast down hill.” _Car?_ If it moved as fast as Grace said it did, it must be some type of carriage. “We used to go on car rides every Sunday.” Grace told Odette, still whispering. _Cursed family_ — did Grace have a different family in the land with cars, phones, airplanes and refrigerators? She frowned, knowing what it was like to be separated from her father. At least Grace and Jefferson were together now. 

Jefferson smiled at Grace as she explained about driving fast. He knew his daughter missed things like that, even if it hadn’t been with him.

Odette smiled at Grace, taking a small sip of the tea. She closed her eyes, relishing in the taste. “I do believe this is the best cup of tea I’ve ever had.” Odette confessed to Grace, who smiled proudly. 

The smell of the vegetables cooking caused Odette’s stomach to growl in anticipation. She hadn’t been lying when she told them it has been some time since she had a nice meal. She looked to Jefferson, “Is there anything I can do to help?” She asked. 

He continued to cut up the herbs, listening, and then Odette asked if she could help. 

How could he ask a princess to help him cook? That didn’t seem like proper etiquette, but he did want a chance to be nearer to her, as selfishly as that was…

“Well,” he drawled, glancing to the side where he had a few things like flour and sugar set aside. “I’m planning on making dessert next. Would you like to help me with that?” 

The rest of the herbs were dropped in the pot and he brushed his hands off of the remnants of the herbs. 

Grace’s eyes lit up at the prospect of dessert.

“Dessert?” She said happily. It had been so long since she had any kind of dessert. Her father used to have the kitchen cook up little cakes and desserts each year on Odette's birthday, spoiling his daughter. She could remember sneaking into the kitchen and watching the staff prepare everything for the celebration, her mouth watering in anticipation as she inhaled the delicious scent of chocolates and cakes. “I’d love to,” Odette said to Jefferson, getting up from her seat and made her way to where the flour and sugar were set aside. 

She wondered what he planned on making. It would be Odette's first time ever making a dessert; hopefully it wouldn’t be too complicated. If it was, she’d likely mess it up. And the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint Jefferson and his sweet Grace. 

Odette stood next to Jefferson, watching as he dropped cut up herbs into the pot, leaning closer to smell the stew cooking. She closed her eyes and smiled, it all smelled so delicious. Odette looked up at Jefferson, smiling softly at the man. “I confess, I’ve never cooked any kind of sweets before.” She admitted. She had never cooked at _all._ Odette didn’t want Jefferson knowing that though. He would likely find her spoiled or pretentious. Growing up as a princess, Odette had been catered to. Never having to lift a finger — though she always wanted to help. _“You’re a princess, my dear.”_ Her father would tell her. _“Princesses don’t belong in the kitchen.”_ She had loved her father, but his views on the world were outdated. But Odette never argued with him, wanting her father to be happy (even if he was wrong). “I hope you don’t mind teaching me.” Odette said, looking down at the sugar and flour. 

The way she was looking up at him, her eyes so big and sweet--he had to repress the urge to cup her cheek in adoration. He’d never seen a princess look at him like that before. _Oh, no,_ he thought looking away and frowning as he brought the dessert ingredients to the forefront of the counter. “Not at all,” he said. 

The tart tins were below the counter and he brought up three. Three wouldn’t need a lot of ingredients which was good because he didn’t have a lot. Three was also a stretch of his limited storage, but it would have to do. “Fortunately, I do have a little butter. It was bartered from one village to the next and it doesn’t have to be kept cold like milk does so it lasted the journey here. You need butter to be able to make the filling for tarts.” 

He grabbed the whisk and demonstrated how to beat the mixture together in the bowl and then offered it to Odette to try. 

As she worked, he would tweak her hold on the spoon if needed by adjusting the way she moved her arm. 

Odette tried to mimic Jefferson’s movements as best as she could, brows pinched together in concentration. When she felt his hands on her to guide her to whisking the ingredients together, Odette couldn’t help but relish in his touch. It had been so long since someone had handled her so gently. She was used to Rothbart’s rough, harsh hands yanking her wrists. Odette would flinch whenever Rothbart tried to touch her, which only angered him further. Jefferson’s touch was delicate, teaching her the correct way to hold the spoon. Her skin would flush, embarrassed that she didn’t even know how to hold a spoon correctly while cooking. 

He floured the tart tins as he talked, simultaneously keeping an eye on Odette as she beat the mixture. “I have some skills in tailoring so I make the clothes for the recently displaced people of this village and they trade what they have to me for it,” he explained. “It hasn’t been easy returning here after being away for so long. Fortunately for _them_ , they remember the passage of time differently than I do so it’s been a little easier for them to adjust. The clothing of that realm, however, is something they miss for comfort’s sake. Fortunately for _me_. I can replicate it somewhat with the materials I have on hand.” He grinned. “I’m hoping to get a wagon in a future trade.” 

“And a horse!” Grace added from the table as she sipped her tea.

“Yes, and a horse.” He briefly wondered what Odette would do after she left their home. Walk to wherever her castle was? Perhaps he would be able to escort her there before they would part. And then he’d never see her again. 

Jefferson spoke about his trade, making clothes for the people of the Enchanted Forest — who apparently wore a different fashion in this land they had been in. Odette wondered what they wore, looking down at her own dress that she had been forced to wear for nearly 40 years. Her engagement dress. It was a cruel reminder of the love she lost because of the curse. 

Jefferson mentioned wanting to get a wagon in a future trade — Grace adding that they needed a horse as well. Odette frowned, wishing she could help them. Her castle was in ruins now, abandoned after Rothbart killed her father. The same tragedy befell Derek's castle after his death as well. She had no home to return to if Jefferson gave her the ring. Odette was utterly alone. 

Odette stopped stirring, a wave of sadness washing over her. She wanted so badly to give Jefferson and Grace something for their help, for welcoming her into their home...but what could she give them? Her hand touched the necklace Derek had given her all those years ago. Odette bit down on her lower lip as she took off the gold locket. “Here.” She held out the necklace for Jefferson. “It should be enough to get you a horse and a wagon.” Odette told him; it was gold after all. “Or more fabric to help continue your trade.” 

Her neck felt naked without the necklace, but at the same time it felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had been carrying it around for so long now, not just the necklace but the reminder of Derek. Without it around her neck, she didn’t feel overwhelmed with grief or guilt, she felt weightless. 

“Please, take it.” Odette urged Jefferson. “It’s all I have to offer.” She said sadly. “You call me Princess Odette but the truth is...I haven’t been a princess in a very long time. I have no castle left, no gold, no land. Rothbart took everything from me.” She looked away from Jefferson, ashamed. “Please,” she whispered. _Just take it. Free me of this pain — of this constant reminder._

When Odette set the bowl down, Jefferson glanced to her face and once again saw that incredible sadness. Had he said something wrong? She was removing her necklace, and his mouth opened to protest, but he waited. It was all she had to offer. Her _please_ was what made him move his arm forward, palm up to take it. 

His fingers were coated in flour and he frowned at how it was smudging the brilliant shine of the gold. That was typical. Here he was smudging Odette’s sweet demeanor with his going ons about what they did to make ends meet. He hadn’t wanted anything from her but her company.

It sounded as if this necklace was all she had left. 

“Is it a trade then?” he asked quietly. “The necklace for the ring?” He watched Odette for a moment, just looking at her. That sad expression she wore so perfectly mirrored what he remembered of those paintings of her so long ago. He hadn’t done anything to help her then. This even further resolved him to help her with that ring. If he could find it.

He dipped his head, looking down at the necklace in his hand with its now cloudy flour residue on it. Turning, he walked over to the water basin and dipped his hand in, swirling the necklace around to remove what he’d done to it. Who had given it to her? Likely someone very important. She had mentioned an engagement while they were still at the lake. It could have been from whomever she had lost and he’d imagine if she didn’t have it, she might regret its loss in the future. He certainly would if the roles were reversed.

Walking slowly back toward Odette, he eyed the golden necklace. It had been quite some time since he held any gold in hand. At one time, he would’ve pocketed it and moved right along on his way. But now, this had just as much use as the spoon Odette had been using. Perhaps even less so. The people in the market wouldn’t have near enough to trade for a golden necklace, because it’s monetary value was far worth more with the sentiments attached to it. He’d never trade it, but keep it as a memento of Odette once she left them. And that was ridiculous as well since he should have done something to help her years ago.

He could certainly empathize with her losing everything she had. He’d been there, too. From having everything he could ever want to having literally nothing, including his sanity gone. But having just one thing back--his Grace--that was all he needed. And if this necklace was all she had left, who was he to take that from her?

He held up the locket as he looked back to Odette. “I can see that this is all you have left of your kingdom, so I thank you for this cherished gift.”

He blew his breath over the necklace and wiped it on his shirt to make sure all the water droplets were gone. “If you’ll allow me?” Stepping next to Odette, he brushed her hair back from her shoulder so that he could put the chain back where it belonged. “I give it back to you as a thank you for sharing the evening with us and with a promise that I will help you.” 

Odette opened her mouth to protest, but as Jefferson brushed her hair back from her shoulders, her eyes closed at the sensation. The necklace was back around her neck and for some reason, wearing it now felt less heavy. She didn’t feel the sorrow of losing Derek or all that she had lost, she only felt grateful towards this man for his kindness. And his _help._

He promised her that he’d help her, causing Odette to slowly open her eyes and look up at Jefferson. Her chest tightened, feeling something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

_Affection._ She felt cherished in that moment. Odette slowly moved her hand to rest on Jefferson’s chest. In that moment, she wanted to ask him if she could stay with him and Grace — even if he couldn’t help her with the ring. She’d live as a swan and stay with them for as long as she was welcome. And if there was a chance that Jefferson had the ring and she could spend the rest of her life as a human, she wanted to stay with them still. But how could she ask such a thing? They had already given her far more than they should. 

“Thank you,” Odette whispered before dropping her hand from Jefferson’s chest. “If I’m ever able to rebuild my kingdom...I hope you and Grace will visit.” She said, looking over her shoulder at Grace who watched them. “You’ll be welcome for as long as you want.” 

But _first_ she had to find a way to stop Rothbart. No one was safe with him around, searching for her. 

Odette’s hand rested on his chest and for a moment, Jefferson couldn’t breathe. He just watched her eyes, hoping that sadness he had seen would ease from her face and he thought that he could. If something so simple as agreeing to help her would ease her burden, then he would breathe for the moments when he could do just that. 

She thanked him and offered her own promise of welcome to her kingdom, if it had a future. Rothbart would be a problem, he assumed. Rothbart must be her own version of Regina then. “You’re welcome here... in our tiny kingdom,” he gestured at the small home they stood in, “as long as you want,” he heard himself say, and then he grinned, feeling foolish because his own little kingdom was just a simple hut. Grace slapped her own forehead with a groan and Jefferson pretended not to notice. 

Odette smiled when Jefferson offered up their quaint little home for her to stay at, her chest tightening when he grinned. Grace seemed rather embarrassed by the way he had described their home, causing Odette to chuckle softly. She remembered how much joy her father got when embarrassing her; telling her that he loved the way her cheeks would turn red, saying it reminded him of her mother. Sadly, Odette never got to know her mother. The woman dying after giving birth to the princess. Odette couldn’t help but wonder where Grace's mother was...

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make light of your offer. I truly appreciate it.” He reached out and squeezed Odette’s hand, but felt he probably shouldn’t have done that afterwards. Whether she believed she was no longer a princess didn’t matter. She always would be, land or not, and he had no right to think himself worthy of comforting her.

When Jefferson gently squeezed her hand, Odette’s skin flushed and her stomach began to flutter, the woman still not used to being touched with such tenderness. Jefferson pulled away and Odette took a step forward without thinking, trying to move closer to him as he spoke. 

“Let’s finish the dessert.” There wasn’t much left to do. He showed her how to scrape the batter she whipped up into the tart tins over the dough he had pressed into them. “If we had a refrigerator, these would need to cool for a little while, but we don’t, so let’s just hope they turn out good.” The tarts would be placed in the fireplace on the grate to bake next.

“What is a refrigerator?” Odette asked, curious about this thing Jefferson has now mentioned twice. She scraped the filling into the tart tins just the way Jefferson had shown her and Odette realized that she truly enjoyed this activity — making desserts. It was calming, even if she didn’t know what she was doing. Perhaps it was the company she enjoyed, too. 

Was that wrong? Was it a betrayal to Derek that she felt affection for Jefferson already? She hardly knew him and yet, Odette felt content in his company. Her mind once again wandered to where Grace's mother was — was she in the young girl’s life? Would Odette be overstepping by accepting Jefferson’s invitation for her to stay with them? So many questions that Odette had no right to ask. 

Jefferson smiled at Odette as she stepped closer to him, pleased that she did so. Of course, she wouldn’t know what these things are that he’s been explaining. He should have realized. It was further proof that she had been a swan longer than he’d realized. A terrible reminder that he needed to help her. 

“It keeps food cold without the need for ice. Like an ice-box. It’s really not important. We have everything we need.” He glanced up at Grace again, who’s eyes were starting to drift closed even with her tea cup poised in her hand. It was getting pretty late and she hadn’t eaten dinner yet. “Grace,” he said, quietly, but his daughter blinked like she’d been caught and set her teacup down. “Would you please set the table? We’ll eat soon and then you can go to bed.” She nodded sleepily and got up. 

Dinner was served and Jefferson set the bowls of stew on the small round table. The wildflowers in the middle of the table were a nice centerpiece. He pulled one of the coneflowers out and set it next to Odette’s place and pulled a daisy out and set it beside Grace’s. 

Odette couldn’t help but smile as she ate, so happy to enjoy an actual meal that didn’t consist of pond weeds. She found herself humming happily while eating, the stew they ate was probably the best thing she had ever eaten in decades. The vegetables were cooked perfectly, the soup’s flavor left her mouth watering after each spoonful, the meal was delicious, and Odette couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed by the happy noises she made while eating. She had manners of course, still remembering her etiquette training, but this stew was so good she had to stop herself from asking for a second helping. 

After dinner, Odette picked up the flower Jefferson had set next to her plate and smiled, the pink petals a lovely color. She watched as Grace had put the flower behind her ear at the table, which had seemed to make Jefferson happy. Odette now did the same, pushing her hair back so that the flower could rest behind her ear. 

Grace was sent to wash up and change for bed in the little add-on that he built when they returned to the Enchanted Forest. It was as best an imitation to a modern bathroom as he could manage with a small bathtub that would have to be filled with trips from the lake and a chamber pot but with Grace nearing her teen years and living with her father, he knew they would need privacy much more than she did when she had been a little girl. 

With Grace busy and after the dishes had been cleared, it was time he looked for that ring. It was causing him a dilemma, however, because he could not recall where he had last seen it. “I apologize, Princess Odette,” he added warily. “It’s been a long time since I actually laid eyes on that ring. But I _think_ it would be in this closet if anywhere.” He really hoped he wouldn’t have to go search the previous home he had owned when he had been able to afford the more lavish house. It was probably in disrepair by now unless someone else had moved in. And that would mean Odette would have to become a swan again, and he really didn’t want her to become sad again. 

When Jefferson apologized for not remembering where he had last seen the ring, Odette found herself holding her breath, trying not to look disappointed. She nodded, forcing a smile. “If you’d like, I can help you look.” She offered.

Two sets of eyes might help them find the ring faster. Odette looked out the window, the moon still high in the sky. She bit down on her lower lip, knowing that she only had hours left as a human. 

He opened the closet and dragged a trunk out. He’d purposely _not_ opened that trunk in the few months they had been back. It contained all of their old memories in it; some of which he’d rather forget, but he couldn’t get rid of it. He knelt down and flipped the latches up, pushing the lid open and looked inside. There were drawings inside, some he’d done of Priscilla in charcoal, some of Grace when she was a baby. A lock of Grace’s hair preserved. Some of Priscilla’s clothes were in there, too. Why the hell had he saved these things? But there was an obvious void in the middle where the hat box had once been stored. That was long gone, destroyed in Storybrooke, and he breathed a sigh of relief over that. That danger was gone, at least. 

He scratched his jaw as he shifted some things around. The last time he really remembered having that ring in hand was when he first stole it and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. 

When Jefferson dragged out a trunk from the closet, Odette got down on her knees to help him look through everything that was stored inside it. _Drawings._ Odette had to stop herself from reaching for one in particular, a charcoal drawing of a beautiful woman. Grace's mother perhaps? There were women’s clothes in the trunk as well. Odette bit the inside of her lower lip, wanting to ask Jefferson if the clothes belonged to Grace's mother. 

“Jefferson,” Odette said his name softly, almost hesitantly. What was she supposed to say? Instead of asking her question, she picked up the charcoal drawing of the woman and smiled while looking down at it. “You’re quite the artist.” Odette commented, seeing the careful and precise details of the drawing. “She’s very beautiful.” She looked to Jefferson. The woman was undoubtedly Grace's mother, sharing the same eyes and smile as the young girl. 

Jefferson looked down at the charcoal drawing Odette was holding. It was odd how he could barely see the likeness that he remembered so many years ago. The drawing didn’t show the rich coloring of Priscilla’s hair or the flush of her cheeks, or her eyes as deep brown as they had been. The only way he could really remember the coloring was by looking at Grace. Though his daughter’s hair was brown, in the sunlight, the red highlights she had inherited from her mother would shine. 

“Was,” he corrected quietly. “That was a very long time ago. She was k--she died when Grace was a baby.” Looking away from the drawing, he pulled out a small box, flipping the lid open. There were other small trinkets in there, some he didn’t recognize at all. Running a finger through the contents, no ring presented itself. “Grace’s mother was a thief like me,” he told Odette. “I met her while trying to find… something or other from a castle in Camelot. She beat me to it and challenged me to catch her, and escaped out a window before we could be caught by the castle guards. As it turned out, she and I had the same employer. Sometimes the cards line up a certain way because a specific result is desired.” 

Odette listened as Jefferson spoke about Priscilla. She frowned upon hearing that the woman had died when Grace was just a baby. Her heart strings tugged for the young girl, understanding what it was like to grow up without a mother; her own dying in childbirth. Odette couldn’t help but smile as she listened to Jefferson speak of Grace's mother — a thief like himself. A better one, it seemed. Given that she had beat him to a prize. The way Jefferson spoke about the woman, it was clear that he had loved her. Just as Odette had loved Derek. She knew what it was like to lose the person you love and she couldn’t help but want to wrap her arms around Jefferson and hug him as a show of condolences. 

He set the box on his lap and looked at Odette beside him. “Before I met Priscilla, I was sent on errand by the same employer into a castle that was owned by… a horrible sorcerer.” He looked down at his hands for a moment, not wanting to see Odette’s reaction. “I found the ring I was sent to find, but I also found some paintings. They showed the cruelty of this sorcerer. They were paintings of you.” He looked at Odette now, his fingers lightly tracing her cheek and jaw as he remembered the renditions of Odette. Those paintings had been in color unlike the drawing of Priscilla which Odette had held. “I see reflections of the same despair in your eyes when I look at you now.” He dropped his hand and looked down again, shaking his head in shame. “I was too young and reckless to care then. I kept that ring for protection, not realizing one day that I would want to keep it for my own daughter after she was born. Not realizing one day that the very princess in those paintings would come to me asking for the ring for protection.” A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I suspect I’ve been a pawn in some bigger game without realizing it. And unfortunately, so have you.” Perhaps they were fated to meet and both had to endure so much just to get where they were now.

When Jefferson began to tell Odette about a job he had before meeting Priscilla — a job that sent him to the castle of a horrible sorcerer. She knew from the way he refused to look at her that the sorcerer was Rothbart. She inhaled deeply through her nose, listening to Jefferson speak about the painting that hung in Rothbart’s castle — a castle that had belonged to _her_ family. He told her about the paintings he had seen, Odette closing her eyes as he told her the paintings were of her. Jefferson’s fingers lightly tracing her cheek and jaw. She moved forward, leaning into his touch. 

When his hand dropped, Odette opened her eyes, looking at Jefferson as he explained why he kept the ring. He called himself young and reckless, wanting to keep the ring. Odette’s lips formed into a soft pout. She wasn’t upset with Jefferson for keeping the ring. She hadn’t even learned about it until a few months ago — how could she hold a grudge against the man over something she didn’t even know about. Odette reached for Jefferson’s hand to hold, wanting to assure him she wished no ill will to him for the choices he made in his youth. 

_“I suspect I’ve been a pawn in some bigger game without realizing it. And unfortunately, so have you.”_

Odette didn’t understand. Had she always been meant to find Jefferson? He said they were pawns in a game — who exactly was in charge of this game? The Dark One? Rothbart? Had everything they had gone through happened just to lead them to this moment? _Why?_

Odette let go of Jefferson’s hand and touched her locket. For so long she had thought that the only person who could ever break her curse was Derek...perhaps it was always supposed to be Jefferson and the ring? 

“I’m sorry you lost Grace's mother.” Odette told Jefferson, swallowing hard as she looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry for all the terrible things that have happened to you...I, however, can’t say that I’m sorry that somehow I was led to you...not just for the ring.” She said honestly. “Even if we’re just two pawns in a game...you have shown me true kindness, Jefferson. I,” her gaze traveled down from his eyes to his lips and suddenly Odette found herself wondering just how soft they might feel. 

Jefferson was unsure why Odette felt the need to apologize to him. He was the one who should be apologizing to her since he knew of her torment so long ago but did nothing. But she touched his hand and all ability to think rationally was gone. She was very close to him and again he took in how beautiful she was. He could feel the warmth of her bare arm near his clothed arm, and his eyes dropped from hers to her mouth. 

Was he interpreting the signals he was getting from Odette correctly? She seemed to like him; he sure as hell liked her more than he had a right to. He wet his lips as he leaned forward slightly.

And then the voice behind him was like a record player needle screeching across his backbone. He sat up straight, his eyes rolling to the side as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, incredulous that Grace would be tiptoeing through the house to sneak up on him. 

“Papa?” Grace said, causing Odette to pull back a bit to create some space between them. 

“Yes, darling?” he asked. He saw that she was in her nightgown and holding on to her stuffed rabbit. “Are you ready for bed?”

Grace nodded as she looked between Odette and her father. The young girl hurled herself into Odette’s arms, much to Jefferson’s complete surprise, and threw her arms around the princess’ neck. “Thank you for visiting us! I hope to see you in the morning so we can have breakfast. And then maybe lunch and dinner tomorrow too. Papa will find that ring for you. I know he will.”

Odette had been pleasantly surprised when Grace hugged her, a smile forming on her lips as she hugged the girl back. When was the last time she had been hugged? Not since Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather had left to help Aurora run her kingdom. That had been months ago. Odette felt touch starved realizing that had been months ago. She closed her eyes and smiled, resting her cheek against the top of Grace’s head as she hugged the young girl. Odette couldn’t help but chuckle as Grace voiced her wish for her to stay for breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner tomorrow. Swearing that her father would find the ring she needed. It caused Odette to smile.

“Grace,” Jefferson said, still a little shocked. He stood from the floor and set the box of knick knacks into the trunk. “Come on. Don’t harass the princess.” He said this affectionately to his daughter and pulled her up from the underarms and off of Odette. “I’m sorry,” he told Odette with a wink. He didn’t think she would be too affronted by the little girl, but it was worth saying anyway. “I’ll be right back.”

He set Grace on her bare feet and gave her a light shove in the direction of her bed in the corner, pulling the curtain around the bed to offer some privacy. Grace jumped into her bed with the eagerness of a fox on the hunt, and scattered her various stuffed animals willy nilly. Jefferson chuckled, setting them to rights around her and then pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Go right to sleep, okay? You’ve been up too late tonight.”

Grace mumbled ascent before her eyes drifted closed on their own volition. With such an exciting evening, she had worn herself out. She’d be so out, he was certain, that any kind of noise made by searching that abyss of a closet shouldn’t wake her.

Odette got up off the ground, straightening the skirt of her dress. She placed her hand over her chest, pacing slowing — what would have happened if Grace hadn’t shown up when she had? Would Odette have kissed Jefferson? A man she knew less than a day? A man she felt somehow fated to. He had said it himself; they seemed to be two pawns being played in a game — perhaps it was all fated? 

She thought of Derek, a man who had once proclaimed that they were soulmates, that they had been made for each other. Back then she had believed him, clinging onto the idea of happily ever after and True Love. But when it came time to break her curse; Derek had failed. True Love had failed...perhaps it hadn’t been true love to begin with? That caused Odette to frown. 

Derek was dead. Dead and gone because of her...so why didn’t she feel more guilty for her attraction to Jefferson? Why did she continue to picture what it might have been like if Grace _hadn’t_ interrupted them? Why did that fantasy leave her heart racing and skin flushed? 

Rothbart had tried for years to have Odette fall in love with him, to let go of her love for Derek, yet it had never worked. And now, after spending a few hours with Jefferson and Grace…oh no. 

“No,” she whispered under her breath. 

If Rothbart ever found her — found her _them._ He had already killed Derek! What would he do to Jefferson and his sweet Grace? No, no, no. She needed to leave. It wasn’t safe for her to stay. Odette was not willing to risk the lives of this kind little family. 

Odette needed to leave. She’d go to Aurora’s kingdom and ask the fairies to reverse their magic and once she was no longer hidden from Rothbart, she’d return to Swan Lake and beg for his forgiveness. She’d agree to his demands and marry the horrid man all to keep Jefferson and Grace safe. 

Odette grabbed a cloak from the trunk Jefferson had brought out, dark enough to keep her hidden in the night while she traveled to Aurora's kingdom. Odette looked over her shoulder, wishing she could say goodbye to Grace and thank her for being so kind. Instead, she yanked off her golden locket and left it on the table before heading to the door. 

Jefferson could either sell it or keep it. It mattered not to her. All that mattered to her was that he was _safe._

Grace was already drifting to sleep when Jefferson stepped away from the bed with a smile on his face. He pulled her bed curtain closed to shut out some of the light made by the oil lamps.

When he returned toward where he’d last seen Odette by the closet, he paused, finding the area empty. Jefferson turned on his heel glancing around the room, but saw nothing. A faint gleam of gold caught his eye and he stepped up to the table quickly, picking up the necklace. “What the hell?” he said under his breath. Had she found the ring after all and left the necklace as payment? Not a word of goodbyes either? He stomped back to the closet and looked into the trunk, but it was exactly as he’d left it. Wait, no. A cloak of Priscilla’s was gone. Completely baffled, he had no idea why the hell she would leave without a word. They had nothing worth stealing and he couldn’t imagine he’d been quite that fooled by Odette to think she had taken anything besides the cloak to just go traipsing off into the night alone in the forest. “Probably some noble gesture and damned idiotic, too,” he grumbled as he yanked his coat off the peg in the closet and threw it on himself, stuffing the gold necklace in his pocket as he moved. 

He was careful to shut the door quietly for Grace’s sake even if he was sure she was well asleep. 

The forest was cold at night despite nice, warm days. It was also foggy which would make being able to see in the moonlight through the trees even more difficult. But he could see some shoe prints that were too big to be Grace’s and too narrow to be his, as they led away from the house. 


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

The faster she walked, the more Odette wished she would have at least brought a note along with her for the fairies in case she didn’t make it in time and returned as a swan. She wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, her eyes looking up at the night sky as the moon began to lower, no longer high up to light her way through the forest. 

Odette gasped when she felt something tug her cloak, the woman quickly yanking away out of instinct. The damned thing had gotten stuck on a branch. Odette sighed in relief, glad it wasn’t somehow Rothbart. She yanked at the fabric of the cloak, trying to unhook it from the branch. Her brows pinched together in frustration, when she heard the fabric tear. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin one of the only things Jefferson had left of his lost love. 

In an un-princess-like manner, Odette cursed. Cursed at the branch, cursed at the moon, and cursed Rothbart. She fell to the floor and let out a sob, head falling in her hands as she cried. It was too cold to continue on without the cloak, she’d likely freeze to death. But she needed to get as far away from Jefferson’s home as possible so that Rothbart would never trace her back to it. Perhaps it would just be better if she did freeze to death on this night. She’d be free of the curse, Rothbart will have lost, and most importantly, Jefferson and Grace would be safe.

Odette inhaled deeply, taking off the cloak and braced herself for the cold. She sat with her back against a tree and waited with her eyes closed. 

  
  


Jefferson didn’t get too far when he lost sight of Odette’s footprints, but he didn’t exactly need to look down to track her now. There were snapped branches every few feet. The brush was getting a little too close now for passage and Jefferson was wondering how she’d gotten through. But then again, she was smaller than him. Where did she think she was going in the middle of the night? Why?

And then he heard cursing. Jefferson grinned, chuckling under his breath as he pushed through the branches with care so as not to make them snap and alarm Odette. He could see her slight figure sitting against a tree, her arms bare in the cold of the night. Alarm shot through Jefferson again until he saw the cloak not too far from her, ensnared in the branches. He pulled the cloak free of the branch, having to snap one of them off to pull loose the embroidery on the outside. Thus freed, Jefferson knelt in front of Odette and tucked the cloak like a blanket around her shoulders. She had to be freezing!

Odette looked up when the cloak was placed around her.  _ Jefferson.  _ He had found her, of course. It seemed that they continued to be fated to find the other — or Odette was simply lazy at covering her tracks. 

All the irritation he had felt at her leaving without a word melted away at the sounds of crying she was making. He cupped her cheek. Apparently he was a complete sucker for her when she was sad and he’d seen her more often sad than happy. “It’s good to let it out. It’s when you can’t shout and swear that it’s much worse,” he said, hoping she would see that he understood her need to cry out. He wanted to pull her into his arms so he could hold her until she felt better, but there would always be that need to yell out at one’s unfortunate situation. But instead, he cupped her shoulders so that he could look into her eyes. 

She closed her eyes as Jefferson cupped her shoulders, her lower lip trembling as she tried to keep from crying.

“If it helps, you can yell into my shoulder--scream and curse if you want, but let it be muffled. There are wolves. I know one of them,” he added quietly with a slight tilt to his lips. “I think she used to babysit Grace when they were cursed, actually. She’s rather nice, Ruby, but I don’t know the rest of her pack and I’d rather not chance it.” He smiled slightly, but the empathy was still in his eyes.

He spoke so softly to her, telling her it was okay to let her emotions out. She opened her eyes and looked into his, her big blue eyes filled with tears she freely let fall down her cheeks, eyes locked with his. She sniffled, trying to compose herself. But everything she had been holding in these last few decades was almost too much to bear. 

He waited for her to accept or refuse, but kept his eyes on her face the whole time he spoke, hoping a stray moonbeam might shed enough light that he could see any emotion other than sadness.

Odette sighed, looking at Jefferson for a long moment before she moved forward and let her head fall against his shoulder, arms wrapping around him. She didn’t scream, she just held onto him tightly, breathing in his scent to try and calm herself. 

Jefferson enveloped her in return in hopes that he could stave off the chill in the air. Maybe he could even take in this sadness she was exuding. She was still holding it in or perhaps was able to compose herself. 

“I don’t want you or Grace getting hurt,” she whispered her fears to Jefferson. “If Rothbart found out you helped me...he’s already killed every person I love. I can’t risk it.” —  _ couldn’t risk falling in love with Jefferson, couldn’t risk loving his sweet daughter _ . Because if Rothbart went after them, she’d rather die. Yet, Odette stayed in Jefferson’s arms, fingers gripping to the back of his coat desperately, terrified of letting him go. “You shouldn’t have come after me, Jefferson,” she whispered. “No good will ever come of it.” 

“Probably not,” he smiled, agreeing to her fear, “but I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.” If he was able to help her, it would mean he had no magical protection left for Grace. He knew this, knew that getting involved could likely cause notice to them in their little hovel in the woods, but still he shook his head. “I promised to help you and I don’t break promises.”

He didn’t know Rothbart past knowing what the sorcerer could do, but he’d dealt with his own demons. “It’s a good thing you don’t love me, then, isn’t it?” He asked lightly. His own improper feelings didn’t matter in her scenario, did it? “We’ll be perfectly safe. Don’t worry, Odette.” He ran one hand comfortingly over her hair, hoping to calm her fears.

She could love him though, Odette realized. Easily. That’s what made this whole thing so frightening. Odette sniffled, eyes closed as Jefferson ran his hand down her hair, the action calming her. 

Finally, she let go of Jefferson, pulling back slightly. She frowned, looking down at the torn cloak. “I’m sorry, I’ve made such a mess of it,” Odette said. But she wasn’t just apologizing for ripping the cloak — she was sorry for leaving him, for running away without saying goodbye. Odette looked back at Jefferson, hoping he understood. She hoped he understood that she only left to try and keep Rothbart from ever hurting him and Grace. 

Jefferson kept a hand on Odette even when she pulled back a little. It almost felt as if he were to let go, she’d fly off again. He wasn’t sure what she was asking, but she was making him nervous. They were safe here though. He wanted to tell her that, but he wouldn’t interrupt.

She looked at Jefferson in the dark, probably looking like quite a mess of tears. “You said you don’t break promises.” Odette repeated what Jefferson had said moments earlier. “I need you to promise me that if Rothbart manages to find me...you grab Grace and run. Far, far away,” she whispered. 

And then she asked him something impossible. To take Grace and run…  _ if _ . Jefferson froze as his eyes widened. She was wearing Priscilla’s cloak and she asked him to take Grace and run. Priscilla’s last words to him had been much the same. He had promised her that he wouldn’t ever leave Grace alone and he’d broken that promise when he’d gone to Wonderland. 

“Because if I go back to your home with you…” Odette licked her lips, feeling dry from the cold. “And you find the ring and I stay human and you’ve fulfilled your promise...” How could she tell Jefferson that she didn’t want to ever leave him and Grace? That if he allowed it, she’d stay with him for as long as he wanted her. “Jefferson, I,” -- _ want to stay. _

Odette, yet again, found herself staring at his lips. Memorizing the curve of Jefferson’s mouth. Slowly, hesitantly, her hand moved to his face. Odette’s thumb touched the dimple on his chin before she found herself moving her fingers to lightly brush against his lower lip. She took in a shaky breath as she finally looked away from Jefferson’s mouth, eyes meeting his. “I don’t believe I’d be able to leave you.” Odette finally admitted in a whisper. 

And that was why she needed him to promise her — swear to her that if Rothbart found her, he’d grab Grace and run. 

She wouldn’t be able to leave him? So she felt the way he was beginning to feel. How could he tell her, so that she would believe him, that they were safe here? Some of the most powerful people lived here. Not that he’d go asking them for help, but… but… 

He couldn’t breathe at the impossibility of being told again to take Grace and run. But she was touching his face, her finger tracing his lip so much the same as Priscilla had done, and he met her eyes again. 

She wanted to stay with him. He wanted that too. And so did Grace, he knew.

Jefferson took a shaky breath. He wanted to say no. That he wouldn’t promise anything of the sort, but he feared she'd fly off again. They  _ were _ safe here. They had to be. So, it wouldn’t hurt anything to promise. It would never be challenged. 

“Okay,” he whispered, so closely to Odette as he cupped her cheek and nodded. “I promise. But I also promise you that I’ll keep you safe.”

They had almost kissed by the trunk of old memories in his home. And here now she was touching his mouth. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but he felt near choked at the impossibility that she was so terrified of being caught again but that he might feel capable of protecting her from her fears. He had to assure her that she could believe him, that she could trust him. He leaned forward, closing the scant space between and took a chance and kissed her, questioningly as if asking permission.

Jefferson's lips seemed hesitant, brushing lightly against her own as if he wasn’t sure that kissing her was the right thing to do. Odette’s stomach fluttered, her chest tightening at the kiss. She pulled back, looking at Jefferson softly for a moment, her lips slowly forming into a smile before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his again. 

She had only ever been kissed by Derek before — though Rothbart had tried many times. Kissing Jefferson felt different from when she had kissed Derek. She had been so young and in love with the prince that each kiss felt special. Back then she would have never thought of kissing another man. Even after Derek's death, she never imagined being this intimate with anyone, too heartbroken to ever open her heart to someone. But when Jefferson kissed her, it felt like her cracked heart was being pieced back together, and that beautiful feeling left her needy, desperate to be kissed by him again. 

Odette found herself moving even closer to Jefferson as they kissed, her hand moving to rest against the crook of Jefferson’s neck as she kissed him, the scarf he wore keeping her from being able to touch his skin underneath the fabric. He had been wearing the scarf in his home too, never taking it off. Odette tugged at the fabric to hold herself steady, pulling it down slightly. 

She was kissing him back, moving closer to him, her hand tugging at his scarf; he was not at all bothered by her touching his neck in the dark. It was an intimate gesture that allowed Jefferson to feel compelled to go further. His hand pulled her closer at her waist under the cloak as he opened his mouth to her advances, his tongue teasing hers. 

He could barely remember the last time he had kissed someone, having spent far too much time wallowing in misery, but he felt hope bloom in his chest that he could possibly open his heart again. He was surprised at his response to kissing Odette, he could certainly want to go farther with her, but the woods in the cold dark of night was hardly the place. She was special and she deserved to be treated as such.

As if on cue, a wolf’s howl in the distance broke the spell he must surely be under so close to Odette, and Jefferson drew back, smiling as if they had gotten caught. His forehead touched hers briefly as he breathed, finding he needed a moment to catch his breath. 

Forehead pressed against his, Odette smiled wide, unable to hide her happiness, her cheeks flushed red from when her mind drifted to what  _ might  _ have happened if a wolf's howl hadn’t interrupted them.

Another howl, but closer caused him to turn his ear toward the sound. He only  _ hoped _ that was Ruby howling. It could very well be a warning. He tried not to think of what else might be out there. They were safe in these woods, he thought. “Let’s go back.” He helped Odette up and once standing again, he held his hand out for her to take.

She breathed in deeply, still smiling brightly as she took his hand. Odette stood on her tip toes and placed one more kiss to Jefferson’s lips. They  _ did  _ need to get back to his home. Jefferson would need to find the ring soon or Odette would go back to being a swan. They certainly could not continue on with this if she turned back into a swan. She pulled back, still holding Jefferson’s hand. He’d need to lead the way, Odette unable to navigate her way back in the dark. 

Another wolf howled, this time further away. “Did you truly allow a wolf to watch Grace while you were cursed?” She asked, trying to imagine Jefferson leaving his sweet girl with such a rabid animal. 

She would ask him a question like that right after giving him another kiss of her own? Jefferson grinned. “Are you questioning my ability to make rational decisions?” he asked, teasing at what she must perceive as they walked back through the trees and toward home.

“Unfortunately, I had no say in the matter since Grace had a different family when that particular curse was happening.  _ They  _ had altered memories so not even Ruby knew what she was. She was just the friendly waitress there. If I had been able to make decisions for Grace there, yes, I would have trusted her to watch Grace.” He helped Odette step through a particularly brambly cluster of branches without getting snagged again. 

“She’s not always a wolf in this land. Only during the full moon, you see.” He gestured up at the moon which was lowering again, soon to set. He frowned as he looked back at Odette, hoping he wouldn’t have to see her change back into a swan, and squeezed her hand. They would have to hurry and hope the ring would be found. 

It seemed this Ruby was cursed just as Odette was, though the princess couldn’t imagine ever transforming into a wolf every full moon — even if it sounded more convenient than spending all of daylight as a swan and then only ever turning back into her true self if the moonlight touched her wings while on Swan Lake. Either way, she felt sympathy for this she-wolf. 

The house was in sight now, and Jefferson was glad for the impending warmth. “Oh,” he said, reaching into his pocket just before the door. “You seem determined to give me this, but it’s yours.” When he pulled his hand and the necklace from his pocket, something else fell out of his pocket, hit his boot, and clinked on the ground. Frowning, he opened the door to shed some light out. He saw the small circlet between their shoes. 

Odette’s brows rose innocently when Jefferson pulled her locket out of his coat. She chuckled at his words, ready to tell him that she couldn’t leave him without  _ some  _ sort of payment for his kindness. Odette didn’t get the chance, something else had fallen out of Jefferson’s coat pocket. 

Jefferson knelt to pick it up and laughed. The coat he was wearing… he hadn’t realized it when he threw it on in such a hurry, but it was the very same he had worn when he had stolen from Rothbart’s castle. He must have forgotten that he had put the ring into the pocket of this coat, not his waistcoat. A good thing, too, because he was becoming certain that he no longer owned the waistcoat. As he lifted the ring, Jefferson saw a flash in the moonstone and he grinned victoriously as he looked up at Odette, holding the ring up for her. “You’re safe now.”

Odette’s eyes widened when she saw that it was a ring that had fallen — but not just  _ any  _ ring. It was a moonstone ring. She held her breath as Jefferson held up the ring, seeing indeed it was the ring that would free her from the curse. Or, at least, keep it at bay. 

With shaky hands, Odette took the ring from Jefferson. She wouldn’t know for sure if it would work until the sun rose, but she felt a great deal of hope as she slowly slipped the ring on her finger. Odette inhaled deeply, waiting to see if the ring's magic would cause her to feel different. She shivered, the night air not helping her already shaky hands. 

“We won’t know if it works until the sun rises,” Odette said to Jefferson. She let out a little huff of a laugh. “I might go mad waiting,” Odette said honestly. “I’ve never wanted the sun to rise so badly.” She smiled, her hands moving to Jefferson’s face after he stood. “Thank you,” she whispered. Even if it didn’t work, she was grateful to Jefferson. He had changed her life completely. 

Jefferson could certainly empathize with going mad with waiting. He nodded once at her thanks, and gestured for her to precede him inside. “I don’t think it will be long to wait, but until then, we should get some sleep. It’ll be a long day tomorrow, otherwise.” His voice was quiet despite the fact that Grace could sleep through anything. He only hoped that tomorrow’s sunrise would bring good news for Odette.

Once they were inside, he shut and bolted the door just in case those wolf howls were some kind of warning. It gave him a chill despite the warmth inside. He hadn’t forgotten Odette’s warning that Rothbart might come after them now that he’d helped her. But he wouldn’t change his actions now if he could. No one deserved to be cursed as she had--lost everything and everyone including the use of her body.

“I have some clothes here that were ordered by Mrs. Shoemaker’s eldest daughter,” he told Odette as he stepped toward an armoire and pulled the doors open to reveal stacks of paper-wrapped packages with string tied around each one. “Ever hear of the ‘ _ Little Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe _ ? She had so many children, she didn’t know what to do?’” He suspected she may not know what he was referring to, so he explained. “It’s a nursery rhyme in the land we lived in before here. Grace thinks it’s funny--the relation of children's stories to what’s actually real. The ‘living in a shoe’ part is complete rubbish but Mrs. Shoemaker did have a lot of children, some of which are grown now. The eldest of which can wait a bit longer for her order, I think.” Jefferson offered the package to Odette. 

“You may be close enough in size to take her clothes. There’s a nightgown and a few other things in there which are more appropriate to this season than what you’re presently wearing.” 

Though what she was wearing suited her well and looked very appealing on her, it wouldn’t work for her in a small hovel in the woods. She would stand out if anyone saw her and wonder what the hell she was doing around him. This wasn’t something he wanted to voice aloud, however, because selfishly, he did want her to stay.

Odette smiled, taking the package from Jefferson. It was sweet of him to offer her clothes, she’d have to learn to make her own so that the eldest daughter of Mrs. Shoemaker could receive her clothes, and Jefferson could be paid for his hard work. The princess held the package of clothes to her chest, looking around for a place to change. Her eyes fell on the small room that Grace had earlier gone into after dinner to wash up. It would give her some privacy to change. 

He pulled his boots off by stepping on the back of the sole of each and sighed with relief, having not realized before he’d torn off into the woods after Odette that it was very late into the night. “I’ll sleep out here,” he told her as he gestured to the sitting area, “and you can take my bed.”

Odette didn’t think she’d get a wink of sleep while waiting for the sun to rise, but it was clear that Jefferson was tired. She wouldn’t pester him to keep her company while she waited. “Oh, I couldn’t,” she said quietly to the offer, not wanting to wake Grace. “You should sleep in your own bed.” Odette told him. “All I’d be doing is tossing and turning while waiting,” she admitted. He was a gentleman and would likely argue that she should get the bed, but Odette wouldn’t let him get the chance. The princess walked in the direction of the room Grace had washed up in earlier. 

Once inside, she carefully untied the string of the package, trying to be delicate while unwrapping the brown paper so that Jefferson could use it again. Odette smiled as she looked through the clothing, impressed by Jefferson’s talent. She slipped out of her dress and grinned. It had been so long since she had worn something  _ other  _ than that dress, taking it off felt extraordinary, as odd as that might seem. Odette pulled the nightgown over her head, glad that it fit well enough, not too loose on her. 

Odette folded her dress, looking at it for a moment. It had been her engagement dress. Rothbart kept her in it all these years as a cruel reminder of what she lost. Odette didn’t want to throw the dress out, but perhaps Jefferson could use the fabric to make something else, something he might be able to trade with. 

After Odette had stepped into the small washroom to change, Jefferson blew out his breath, his eyes wide, and ran a hand over his head as he looked around the home. One complete circle was enough to see everything. It was amazing how one evening had the ability to change everything the eye perceived. The space was not big enough. Assuming the ring did protect Odette from her curse—and he had little doubt that it would since he was the one that had stolen it for Rumpelstiltskin in the first place—she had voiced her interest in staying, even saying she wouldn’t want to leave them. He’d have to expand the outer walls of the home. Maybe add actual walls inside the home rather than the use of curtains around Grace’s bed. It was an idea he’d thought of when first returning to the Enchanted Forest, but with an immediate need for a garden, walls had gone to the back of his mind. Having a woman in the house would mean a lot more. More than Jefferson was capable of hashing over at the moment.

He felt the warmth in his chest and likewise the restriction of breath as if he were being squeezed by the hope of it all. It was an odd feeling, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, but it brought a smile to his sleepy face. Maybe it was about time he got something right. He’d had Grace back in his life for the past few months, he had the beginnings of a promising income coming in so he could provide, and now Odette had literally flown into their lives. 

With no idea what the time was, and no inclination to go hunt down the old pocket watch to find out, he walked sock footed to this land’s version of a sofa and collapsed into it, the smile still lingering on his face as he closed his eyes. Just like Grace’s ability to sleep soundly, Jefferson was out in a moment. His legs were extended out to the floor and crossed at the ankles. His arms crossed and his hands tucked in at the elbows.

Odette walked out of the room holding the neatly folded dress, along with the clothing Jefferson had made for Mrs. Shoemaker's eldest daughter. She set them down on the table, careful not to make too much noise and headed to the sitting area in the home. She stopped when she saw Jefferson had already fallen asleep in the room. She couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head. Of course he didn’t listen to her when she had insisted he take the bed. She walked over to where he slept, grabbing a blanket that hung on the back of a rocking chair and draped it over Jefferson so that he wouldn’t be cold as he slept.

Odette didn’t know what to do with herself in the quiet hours of the night. She supposed there was nothing to do but wait. The princess walked back to the rocking chair and took a seat, eyes focused on the window as she waited. 

She looked down at her hand, studying the ring she now wore. It truly was beautiful; a dainty ring with a thin band, an oval moonstone surrounded by tiny diamonds. She wondered  _ why _ Jefferson had been sent to steal the ring. Odette understood why he had kept it; it was forged with magic to protect the person who wore the ring — but why hadn’t his employer insisted Jefferson go back and find the ring when he came back without it. If it was the Dark One, wouldn’t he have known that Jefferson was lying? He must have, given that the imp had sent Odette to Jefferson when she came asking him to help break her curse. He knew all along that Jefferson had the ring. Why let him keep it? 

Jefferson’s earlier words crossed her mind. How someone was playing a bigger game here, the two of them pawns…

Her gaze moved to Jefferson, realizing that the Dark One must have always known they’d meet. That it would be Jefferson who saved her from Rothbart’s curse. Her chest tightened as she continued to watch Jefferson, a man who she had been fated to meet. 

The hours ticked by and Odette's eyes grew heavy, and slowly she fell asleep. The moon disappeared and the sun began to rise all while Odette slept. The princess, who was sleeping peacefully in the rocking chair, remained human. 

\---

As reliable as an alarm clock, the sun began to rise and Jefferson awoke. At first, he glanced around himself, surprised to find he’d been sleeping on the couch, and with a blanket over himself. He could sleep anywhere and had out of necessity many times. 

But as he turned his head, he spotted a woman sleeping in the rocking chair and for a moment, Jefferson wasn’t sure what he was seeing. His eyes went wide as he blinked at her, but realized it was Odette in the nightgown he had given her. She had stayed. A beam of sunlight through the open curtain of the window was just touching her and Jefferson smiled. The ring had worked. Of course it did. Magic was very real and that ring had magic in it. 

He stretched as he stood and took the blanket that had been draped across himself and gently tucked it around Odette. 

There was no sound coming from the concealment of Grace’s bed, so he assumed, just like every other morning, Grace was still asleep. 

Jefferson pulled his boots on and his coat and quietly stepped outside to scrounge up what he could from the garden for breakfast. While outside, he saw the broken stalks and destruction that the garden had suffered in the wake of a very disgruntled and desperate swan the evening before. He chuckled to himself in memory. He’d have done far worse to get someone’s attention if he needed it, so he couldn’t blame Odette for that at all. So he spent some time fixing up what he could of the garden and picking up some tomatoes and other fallen fruits and vegetables from the ground. 

The fresh air felt great as the sun rose and from the exertion of work, so he eventually took off his coat and the scarf, and draped them over the fence as he continued to tie up the stalks once again.

  
  


Odette’s eyes slowly opened. She blinked, looking around the room at her surroundings. The first thing she saw was light peeking through the window, the sun's rays touching her face — THE SUN! Odette’s eyes went wide as she looked down at her hand — her still  _ human  _ hand! A grin spread on her face as she stood up from the rocking chair, the blanket falling to the floor as she did so. She looked down at her feet and had to contain her excitement — she still had her legs! And arms! Her hands found her face, running them along her smooth skin and through her golden hair. The ring worked! 

“Je— Her words caught in her throat when she saw that Jefferson was no longer on the couch. She frowned, walking out of the sitting room to where his bed was located only to find that empty as well. Odette checked on Grace, seeing that the young girl was still sleeping peacefully. At the sound of noise coming from out front, Odette slowly closed the curtain that gave Grace privacy and headed to the door. 

The feeling of the sun on her face caused Odette to laugh, unable to hold it in. She closed her eyes, head tilted back a little once she was outside and relished in the feeling of the sun shining on her skin.  _ It worked! The ring worked! _ She opened her eyes, spotting where Jefferson was and grinned.  _ He _ had saved her. This was all possible because of  _ him. _

Jefferson heard the sound of laughter behind him and stood from where he was tying up a vine. There was Odette, her head tilted back, thoroughly enjoying herself; nevermind the fact that she was outside in a nightgown. He chuckled at her excitement. Dusting his hands off, he remained where he stood so as not to interrupt her enjoyment of her newfound freedom.

“Jefferson.” She said his name with a smile as she walked in his direction. Odette was so happy that she could kiss the man (again). “I don’t have wings.” 

When she said his name, he felt he was able to share her excitement. He felt that restrictive feeling in his chest again and approached to meet her. What a gift this was, to witness someone’s first day outside of their own curse. It was wonderful to see her smiling and happy, not so incredibly sad as she had been most of the previous evening. That was how he knew her best, even in their short acquaintance. It was almost as if he was looking at a brand new woman. She was transformed into a glowing beauty now by simply smiling. 

“I’m happy for you,” he said in response to her lack of wings.

She chuckled, moving closer to him. Seeing clearly in the daylight, Odette got a better look at Jefferson. She had seen him in the light through the swan's eyes, and in his dimly lit home. He was even more handsome than he had been in the dark. 

He saw her blush and it made his own grin widen in appreciation of her happiness and the fact that she was still here. With him.

She blushed, looking away from his face. It was then that she saw the scar around his neck and paused. She recognized the mark — the mark of someone who had been beheaded through magic. Rothbart’s servant Oldie had the same scar along her neck. Her hand moved to her mouth, shocked to see Jefferson wore his own scar. 

He was about to reach out and cup his hand around her arm, when he noticed the way her eyes shifted down and she covered her mouth. Jefferson froze, his eyes flaring in alarm. The scarf! He’d been far too comfortable and forgotten! The mark of shame that ringed his neck was a reminder of the most important promise he’d ever broken. 

“Who did that to you?” She asked, stepping forward. Odette had been so happy moments earlier; now all she wanted to do was find the person who hurt Jefferson and make them pay for their crimes. 

His mouth felt dry. She asked him a question and he couldn’t answer as his mind raced. She clearly didn’t know about what he’d done, what had happened to him, and all the loss he’d caused. Maybe she would leave now and that happiness would fly away again.

But Odette was looking at him--not in fear, was she? He had to take a chance that she would be different from others who had looked at him in terror in Storybrooke. This wasn’t Storybrooke after all and people did believe in magic here. He had to wet his lip before he could speak. Quietly, he said, “The Queen of Hearts in Wonderland. Cora, here.” And he had to look away from Odette in case she thought less of him. That was not something he could stand to see.

“Cora did this to you?” Odette shouldn’t have been surprised; the woman was awfully wicked. But Cora was the reason why Odette had twenty-eight years without Rothbart. The woman had locked him away when he tried to challenge her, always wanting more power. Because of that, Odette had been safe from Rothbart. Up until Cora left with a pirate to the world Jefferson and Grace called Storybrooke. 

She felt sick to her stomach, chest tightening uncomfortably. There had been a time that Odette had felt gratitude towards the woman...now? She wished her a lifetime of misery. Odette wished that  _ Cora  _ was cursed. She deserved to be damned for what she had done to Jefferson. 

“Rothbart.” Odette hated saying his name. “He beheaded his servants. An older woman; Oldie...he used magic to keep her alive.” Odette frowned in sadness, her hand moving to rest on Jefferson’s chest. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” 

If she told him about how she knew Cora, Jefferson might look at her differently. How could she have ever felt gratitude for that wicked woman? “Swan Lake was one of the lands protected from the curse the Evil Queen cast, Cora used her magic to protect us. I still don’t know why but during those twenty eight years, Rothbart was her prisoner. I was free from him.” She swallowed hard. Odette closed her eyes, shaking her head as her hand dropped from Jefferson’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “She was cruel to do that to you.” Odette looked back to Jefferson. Her finger ached to touch him, wanting to show him comfort, but Odette worried that Jefferson may now see her in a different light now that he knew she had somewhat of a past with Cora. 

Jefferson gave a humorless laugh about Cora protecting anyone but that would explain why some had not been transported to Storybrooke while most others had. Why Odette hadn’t been there. It would have made living in Storybrooke more pleasant if he had known her then. But would she be looking at him now and touching his chest as she does if she had cursed memories? Likely not, he figured. He was the madman in the woods there. Now, he was just a tailor and a papa. But he didn’t want her to think her apology meant little to him. “What happened to me is long in the past. I’m just… not accustomed to kindness when people see it.”

People were unkind to Jefferson when they saw his scar? That left Odette feeling overwhelmingly protective of Jefferson and the scar he’d rather hide from the world. The scar wasn’t something that bothered Odette to see — well, that wasn’t true. She was upset that it existed to begin with; that Cora had done that to him. But it wasn’t something she’d cringe at or look away from if he didn’t keep it hidden. The man standing in front of her, the man who had brought her into not only his house, but his  _ life _ , he didn’t deserve to be treated with unkindness, to be scowled at for the mark along his neck. Jefferson was good and deserved happiness and love. 

Jefferson smiled slightly at Odette despite her looking away from him. “I guess it’s a good thing my captor is dead then. Yours, however...” Jefferson frowned. “We don’t need him finding out you’re here and safe from his curse.” 

Cora was dead. Good. She could rot in the ground for what she had done to Jefferson. At the mention of Rothbart, Odette frowned. Yes, the last thing she wanted was for him to find her here, curse free. The evil man would burn everything in sight and the thought of losing Jefferson and Grace was too horrible to even imagine. 

Tilting his head, Jefferson reached out and touched Odette’s golden hair, running his fingers through the locks. She closed her eyes, sighing softly at the tenderness. 

“What do you think about a pseudonym for when we go into the village? I would imagine you’re going to cause quite a commotion.” His eyebrow lifted as he looked affectionately at Odette. 

Odette opened her eyes and looked up at him. She was pleasantly surprised that Jefferson would be willing to let her leave his home. Odette had been locked away for so many years that it was odd to think that anyone would allow her to have free will. 

“You’re beautiful and you’re new here. Everyone will be talking about you. And they’ll be wondering why you’re with me.” The humor remained in his eyes even as he wondered why she would want to stay with him. That kiss they shared in the woods could have just been a fleeting moment of emotions that drove her to kiss him back. He would like to kiss her now just to prove it wasn’t just a one off thing for him. 

Her skin flushed at his words, not quite believing them. It was hard to even recall what she truly looked like, a reflection of the swan always appearing in her head when she thought of herself. It seemed Jefferson didn’t think too highly of himself either. But why? The man was devastatingly handsome, beautiful blue eyes that Odette could get lost in — it honestly surprised her that there weren’t ladies lined up outside him home hoping to catch his eye. 

“You may even have some suitors trailing behind you.” Jefferson’s eyes rolled upwards as if he was studying the foliage overhead. “And I’m going to be utterly jealous,” he said on an exhale. He grinned at Odette despite himself. “I promised I’d keep you safe, even from others who will want your attention. Unless you’d rather I didn’t...?”

Odette huffed out a laugh when Jefferson said that she’d have suitors trailing behind her in the village. Grinning when he admitted that he’d be utterly jealous. She bit down on her lower lip, looking up at Jefferson through her lashes when he told her that he’d keep her safe from others who might want her attention — unless she didn’t want him to. 

It was refreshing. To be given a choice. 

She hoped her response was answer enough. Odette stepped forward, closing the space between them and pressed a kiss to Jefferson’s lips. 

The other men in the village wouldn’t matter to her, they could offer her gold and jewels — even offer to bring back her kingdom. It mattered not. She didn’t want them. She wanted Jefferson.  _ Only _ Jefferson. 

“Delilah,” Odette whispered the name after pulling back after a moment to catch her breath. “I’ve always liked that name.” 


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

**Present Day in Storybrooke**

  
  
Jefferson stared at the ceiling of his living room. The couch he laid on was meant to be comfortable, but he didn’t feel it. He might as well have been laying in the crispy, frosted grass by the ambulance for all the comfort it gave him. His stomach was roiling in a mix of anger and anxiety as he took the time to think. All the memories of that missing year had come flooding back and it had been too much to process at once. He didn’t have the ability to go chasing after that ambulance right away. 

Delilah. Odette… She was at the hospital for smoke inhalation. Maybe worse. He couldn’t tell because that  _ dick _ Rothbart had been leaning over her in the ambulance, blocking Jefferson’s ability to get closer. Rothbart had gone along as well. 

He remembered as if seeing it again how fake-Derek had kissed Delilah’s cheek, had whispered something offensive in her ear which caused her to back away, had bought her flowers. He had been trying to court her, to trick her into believing he was some  _ Mister Nice Guy _ ! The one consolation was that he thought she may have left the flowers behind somewhere after Delilah and Jefferson had danced. 

While Delilah was in the hands of the questionable medical staff, he could only hope that was sufficient enough for the time being to keep her  _ safe _ until Jefferson could figure out what the hell to do. 

Jefferson groaned, clutching his throat as if it still burned from the long ago injury. 

He loved her. Odette, Delilah; he loved both versions of her. And he was fairly confident that she loved him too as Delilah. Or at least liked him more than  _ Derek. _ The jealousy sizzled in him, but it was so far diminished now that he knew who that man was. Delilah had been too dazed to get away from Rothbart. She didn’t  _ know _ that was the man that had cursed her, the reason for her anxiety over sunlight. The reason she needed to wear that ring to protect her. Would it be sufficient to protect her from him in the hospital? 

_ Mister Nice Guy. _ Jefferson snorted through his nose as he sat up, glaring at the coffee table. And the price he had to pay for that gift Rumplestiltskin had given him was due. He needed to find Mister Gold.

Delilah first? She needed to be at the hospital. She needed to be checked over. But could he go on a wild goose chase now? He had no idea where to look for the missing pawn broker. There had been no clues from anything he remembered. Except… that night, just a little over a month ago when he drank that potion that would ease the fog in his mind, the imp had told him he would be found just like Belle had been--underground, out of mind but not out of time. The asylum then. 

Wasting no time, Jefferson snatched his scarf off the couch and tied it hastily around his neck as he headed back to his car. He didn’t like going there, but he had little choice. And since the asylum was in the basement of the hospital, he was going to at least check on Delilah first. 

\---

  
  
“How’s your head?” Dr. Whale asked Delilah. She laid in the hospital bed with Derek sitting at her side, his burns being treated. 

Delilah had told him that he didn’t need to stay, that he should get his arm checked. That’s when Derek persuaded Dr. Whale to allow him to be checked out in the same room as Delilah, citing that he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone after the trauma she had been through. Dr. Whale brought in an older nurse who wore a turtleneck under her uniform to take care of Derek’s arm.

“Are you experiencing any tension? A headache perhaps?” Dr. Whale continued on. 

“A little,” Delilah answered, feeling tension between her brows and the back of her head, Was that something that normally happened after inhaling too much smoke? 

“Your eyes are a little red,” Whale said while examining her. “That’s likely an irritation caused by the smoke. Can you see clearly?” Delilah nodded. “How’s your chest?” He asked next. “Any tightness or trouble breathing now that we have you off of oxygen?” 

Delilah didn’t answer, instead focusing on looking out the door and down the hallway at the people walking by.

“Delilah, sweetheart.” Derek touched her arm, causing her to look over at him. 

“Hm?” She blinked, feeling exhausted. Her whole body felt weak, like she had run a marathon. All she wanted to do was sleep. 

“Dr. Whale asked you a question,” Derek said, squeezing her arm. 

Delilah looked back at Dr. Whale, who gave her a sad smile. “It’s normal to be a bit spacey,” he explained. “Low oxygen levels and chemical asphyxiants can cause decreased alertness. It also can cause a person to become confused and faint as well,” Dr. Whale told Delilah. “You really are lucky that he found you when he did; otherwise, the damage could have been a lot worse.” Whale looked at Derek. “You’re quite the hero running into a burning building.”

“I’m just thankful I was in the area,” Derek said, moving to hold Delilah's hand. “I don’t know what I would have done if…” He stopped talking, looking at Delilah for a long moment. “If I hadn’t gotten to you in time.” 

“You ought to thank him,” the older nurse who was treating Derek's wounds said. 

Delilah looked at the old woman; there was something familiar about her, yet her presence made Delilah uncomfortable. 

“Thank you,” Delilah told Derek. 

“Of course, darling.” Derek smiled, only to wince as the nurse touched a sensitive part of his burn. 

This man had risked his life to save her. Ran into a burning building when any other sane person would have waited for the fire department to arrive. He got burned saving her. He could have died. Delilah owed him more than her thanks and gratitude. 

“Derek,” she said his name, though it felt strange on her tongue, “perhaps...perhaps I could buy you dinner?” She asked him, causing Derek to grin. “To thank you for saving my life.” 

“I’d be honored.” Derek picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a date,” he said before kissing the back of her hand. 

  
  


\---

  
  
The hospital was bustling with people but Jefferson paid no mind to any of their faces. He was headed to the ER. But of course, he was stopped the moment he began to pass the front desk. With the utmost restraint, he tilted his head and smiled. “I’m here to see Delilah Mason. She was involved in the fire this morning.”

“And you are?” the receptionist asked him with a pointed look.

Jefferson frowned. What was he in relation to her? He was no fool when it came to hospitals and smoothed out his smile to one he hoped was charming enough. “Family.”

The receptionist was proving to be no fool either. She gave him a considering appraisal and then glanced down at her desk only to lift the copy of yesterday’s  _ Daily Mirror  _ with the photo of he and Delilah on the cover. “Wanna try that again?” 

When Jefferson grimaced--and he knew he shouldn’t have let Sidney Glass take that picture--the woman laughed and waved a dismissing hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was just teasing. Visiting hours are for another thirty minutes. She’s in room 815.” 

“Thank you,” Jefferson said curtly, not appreciating the humor. He could hear every footstep as he walked down the hallway, every beat of his heart hammering behind his ears. She had to be okay.

And then he heard her voice drifting down the hallway and he smiled slightly. She could speak which meant the smoke inhalation likely wasn’t too bad. But he froze when he realized what she was saying. She was asking  _ Derek _ to dinner? What the hell!

And then the sinister voice answered, confirming the date. 

Jefferson’s blood was boiling. He didn’t bother peeking in, but turned a sharp right and walked straight past the room and down another hallway without looking in. He couldn’t handle seeing Rothbart near Odette. She was cursed. She didn’t know what she was saying. 

A stream of profanities were muttered under Jefferson’s breath as he walked faster along the corridor and to a flight of stairs. One of the hospital staff glared at his language as he walked past, but he didn’t notice nor care if he did. Down he jogged, his mind a whirl of commotion. 

The asylum was in the basement. Never would he have thought he’d be going there again, but he needed help. Probably more help than he was willing to admit to himself, but his feet carried him along as if on autopilot. 

The nurse, Ratched, if Jefferson recalled correctly, had been an older woman that was so very easy to persuade. He didn’t bother to change into a hospital uniform this time like he had when he got Belle out of there. There was no time for careful planning. 

The nurse smiled expectantly at Jefferson when he approached, but frowned when she looked him over. He wondered if she remembered the tea he had drugged. “Hello,” he said pleasantly. “I’m here to visit an uncle. Mister Gold?”

The nurse puzzled her brow and looked down at her desk. “We don’t have a Mister Gold registered here.”

Jefferson reacted instantly, slamming his fist on the desk as he leaned forward. “He has to be.”

The nurse’s eyes flew wide as she leaned back. Her hand went under the desk and he saw it. An alarm button. “Gold!” he shouted. “Are you here?”

“You really can’t--” The nurse began to protest, but Jefferson wasn’t hearing her. He jogged past the desk and down the hall. 

“Gold! Rumplestiltskin!” Each door had a small, square window in it. These poor, unfortunate schmucks, he thought as he ran past each.

A slam on one of the doors caused Jefferson to backtrack. Looking in, he saw a young man who looked completely lucid, but glaring back at him. There was something familiar about him.

“Gold is my father! Help me get out of here!” It was Baelfire, then. Henry’s father. The man slammed his fist on the door again.

There was a shuffling of feet approaching and Jefferson turned to see two of the hospital cops jogging toward him. 

“Where is your father?” Jefferson shouted.

Baelfire shook his head. 

Jefferson swore under his breath. “I’ll be back.” He ran before the cops could catch him and found an exit and ran into the surrounding forest.

Meanwhile, the intercom alerted the hospital that there was a Code Grey, a combative person in the Lower Level and that visiting hours were over.

\---  
  


  
Rothbart listened as the person over the intercom called a Code Grey for the lower level of the hospital. Eyes shifting to Oldie, the nurse who worked on his burned arm, trying not to hiss at the bloody woman while she worked. Her hands were cold and rough, unlike Delilah’s. He held her hand in his, the softness of her skin always making him forget about the scorching pain on his arm. This was how it was meant to be, the two of them together. 

He had waited too long to bump into her and that mad man got to her first. Rothbart saw the way she looked at him, the way she touched him. It left him wishing he could have the Mad Hatter’s head chopped off a second time. Cora had been the first one to have Jefferson beheaded, and Rothbart would have been the last if Odette hadn’t stopped him, begging him for mercy, promising that she’d go with him willingly to Storybrooke and be his bride. But Rothbart knew she’d never love him — not the way she had loved Derek and  _ certainly  _ not the way she loved Jefferson. 

“Is everything alright?” Delilah asked, pulling her hand away from Rothbart. He looked away from Oldie and saw that Delilah was speaking to Dr. Whale. “What’s Code Grey?” She asked. 

Dr. Whale sighed, rubbing his temple. “If I had to guess, someone picked a fight downstairs. Which unfortunately means that visiting hours are over,” he looked to Rothbart, “and you will be needing to go to a separate room.” 

Rothbart had an idea who was behind the code; anything to keep him away from Delilah. He saw it in Jefferson’s eyes. Somehow he got his memories back. Which meant that Rothbart would need to move quickly. 

Rothbart forced a smile and nodded his head. “Delilah, I’ll be in touch,” he told her while standing up, Oldie following after him. “I look forward to our date.” 

Delilah smiled kindly. “Thank you, Derek. Again.” She had never looked at him with such gratitude before; it left Rothbart feeling invincible.

“Of course.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

“Follow me now,” Oldie told Rothbart. He glared at the woman once his back was turned to Delilah. 

They walked out of the room together. “I want to speak to security,” Rothbart told the woman. “I have a feeling that the Mad Hatter was the reason behind that code.” 

Oldie made a face, “It was on the lower level. Do you think he knows where you’re keeping...you know who?” She whispered. 

Rothbart gritted his teeth at the woman. “Quiet!” He hissed. “We’ll find out soon enough. If he had escaped with him we’d know — what are you even doing up here? You’re supposed to be monitoring him!” 

“I heard they brought you in,” Oldie said with a frown. “That you’d been burned in the fire…” 

Rothbart rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he snapped at her. “Get things prepared to move the boy. Even if it wasn’t Jefferson down there, he has his memories back. It’s only a matter of time before he comes back.” 

Two hours later, Jefferson was knocking on Regina’s ostentatious office door. 

“Well, well. I shouldn’t be surprised to see  _ you _ not long after I get a call about a hostile person attempting to break out a patient in the asylum.” Regina turned to pour an amber liquid from the crystal decanter into a glass to offer to Jefferson as he strode into the office.

Jefferson ignored her remark for the most part. “Trust that this is the last place I’d like to be right now. I don’t have a lot of choice and you’re the only one of… power here who’s interests might align with mine.”

Regina’s eyebrow rose as she offered the drink. Jefferson gave Regina a flat look and she shrugged and sipped from it herself. “Is this in reference to Gold again? Honestly, Jefferson, I don’t know where he is.”

“His son is locked up in the asylum. That’s what I discovered there. But there’s more.”

Regina seemed to be mocking him as she replied. “More, hm? Do tell.” She sat on the edge of her desk.

“I remember the missing year. I know who cast it. He’s a sorcerer named Rothbart and he’s using the name Derek here.”

Regina gave no notion of familiarity to this information. “And?”

“He also has something to do with Gold being missing. I made a deal with him and the price is to find him. He  _ knew _ this was going to happen.”

Regina set her glass down and crossed her arms. “So if Baelfire is locked up, he needs to be questioned about the whereabouts of Gold. And you think Gold can do something about this Rothbart?”

Jefferson nodded, shortly. He was certainly not comfortable standing there conversing with Regina. “This has something to do with… Delilah Mason, as well. The fire at the dance studio this morning-- Rothbart started it. She’s being held hostage by Rothbart. He’s enamored her somehow.”

“Oh ho!” Regina crowed, smiling brightly. Jefferson scowled. “You  _ love  _ her! That’s what this is about. I know jealousy when I see it, Jefferson.” She stood from the desk and rounded it, taking her seat. “Please  _ spare me _ your jealous fits in the future. I have a town to run here.” The typical condescending tone was back in her voice.

Jefferson placed his hands on her desk, leaning forward. “I found out why we’ve been cursed to forget again, Regina. Don’t you care that someone is taking over your job of town curser? You could get Henry back...” 

Regina scoffed, but Jefferson could see that he’d hit home. Jefferson spoke through his teeth. “I need to find Gold and we can start by getting Baelfire out of the asylum. Please.”

“Okay,” she said, making eye contact with Jefferson. “I’ll get him out.”

Relief swamped him and he stood from her desk.

\---  
  
  
  


“Are you sure you don’t need me to come in?” Delilah asked Florence. Her coworkers insisted on Delilah staying home to rest after the fire, they even went as far as to give her the rest of the weekend off. That was the last thing she wanted. Delilah needed to keep busy; she needed to keep her mind off of the fire and what she had lost because when she thought about how the studio had burned down, all she felt was despair. 

“Stay home, sweetheart,” Florence said once again. “Get some rest.” 

When they hung up, Delilah stood in the middle of her kitchen, unsure what to do with herself. Dr. Whale had released her late the night before. David Nolan was kind enough to drive her home. A part of Delilah thought that Jefferson would show up to the hospital. He  _ had  _ been there, right? She saw him while in the ambulance. He knew what had happened....so why hadn’t he gone to see her in the hospital? 

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. After a moment, Delilah walked out of the kitchen and into her bathroom. She needed to shower; even after scrubbing herself clean last night she still felt gross. Delilah turned on the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. She sat on the edge of the tub, her mind still on Jefferson. 

Where was he? Did he not care? Had she imagined those moments they shared? The dinner date they were supposed to have — was that not supposed to be an actual date? Or just dinner between two friends? 

Delilah closed her eyes, letting her head fall in her hands. She had asked Derek to allow her to buy him dinner as a thank you, feeling guilty that he had gotten hurt while risking his life to save hers.  _ He  _ had called it a date. She made a face, not  _ wanting  _ to go on a date with Derek.  _ He _ wasn’t the one she wanted. Yet, the man she wanted seemingly didn’t want her. Maybe going on a date with Derek wouldn’t be the worst thing possible. 

Jefferson sat in his car in the farthest parking space he could and still be able to see the doors to the entrance of the asylum. Regina had promised she would get Baelfire out. But as time ticked by with no sign of the man actually leaving, he grew restless. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Jefferson punched in the number to the hospital. He inquired about the release of Neal Cassidy as calmly as he could but he heard the disruption in the line as if a hand was placed over the receiver. Even still, he thought he heard the muffled voice speaking to someone and the words lost the patient. “Erm... he’s already been discharged.”  _ Click _ .

Jefferson stared at his phone for a moment. The call had been disconnected. Discharged? But he’d been watching! Stupid! Of course, he probably was released discretely out a side door or something because the son of Rumpelstiltskin had not belonged in the asylum in the first place! Cursing himself, Jefferson started the ignition and left the parking lot. Now, where the hell was he supposed to find the man?

At a complete loss for what to do, he drove idly through Storybrooke, not really with any destination in mind, when he slowed to a stop in front of the burned out shell of the dance studio. Poor Delilah. He frowned at how this must make her feel. And Grace when she found out... Perhaps he could do something to help her for when she was released from the hospital. He knew a certain woodworker that could help.

Five minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of Marco’s wood shop. The elderly woodworker was the go-to contractor for most of the buildings downtown. Why the hell not? Jefferson grinned after he left, details settled, payments made in advance. Hope bloomed in his chest at the thought of how Delilah might smile when she saw her place of business and passion in helping Storybrooke’s youth being rebuilt the very next morning. Rothbart may try to break Odette in his sick games, but Jefferson would always be there to thwart him. 

Huffing out his breath after that task being complete, he tried to recall what he was supposed to have done the day before when it had all gone to pot. He was supposed to make dinner for Delilah. But she had made plans for a dinner date with ‘Derek.’ Jefferson felt sick. 

He drove home feeling hopeless.


End file.
